


The Gentleman is Not for Sale (But He is for Rent)

by mizore, mongoose_bite



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ossan Rental, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fanart, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mild powerplay, Praise Kink, Reverse Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:32:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 53,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizore/pseuds/mizore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michelle won the National Lottery, life became slightly easier for Eggsy, but no less complicated. Their new social circle neither likes nor respects them, despite Michelle's best efforts, and for Eggsy the feeling is mutual. Meeting the toffs up close only confirms what he's always suspected; money does not make you a gentleman.</p><p>It does, however, allow you to rent one. An Ossan Rental/Reverse Sugar Daddy AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oxfords, not brogues,” Eggsy muttered, putting his back to a wall, where he felt like it had metaphorically been all evening. He brought up his phone's web browser with one hand, the other still clutching half a glass of champagne. The phone was new and he wasn't quite used to how it sat in his hand. His suit was new, and he couldn't imagine ever getting used to how it sat on his body. His shoes, at which Charlie had been sniggering, were new, and they hurt his feet slightly.

He was not having a good time. It was awful wearing all this money and feeling so uncomfortable in it. The conversation swirled around the room, ebbing and flowing to the swirl of silk, the glitter of precious stones, and the aroma of expensive perfumes and colognes, discreetly applied. It wouldn't do to be 'too much,' as Michelle had told him about a thousand times during the days upcoming this event, but Eggsy was pretty sure their problem was they were 'not enough.'

It had seemed like a good idea; let people know that we're a good sort of family and respectable, Michelle said, donate half a million pounds to charity, she said. They want to thank us with a little event, so I'll invite all our new neighbours and we can make some friends. She was trying her best, but Eggsy felt rather miserably that she was wasting her time. She looked beautiful; she'd cut her hair and was wearing a dark blue evening dress that suited her perfectly. But it wasn't her. It was like she'd bled all the bright colours out of her wardrobe.

It made no fucking difference, Eggsy thought angrily as he thumbed in 'oxfords' and 'brogues' and let google do the work. Unlike the icy politeness he'd endured earlier, Charlie had at least been upfront enough to sneer to his face, and Eggsy struggled to keep his expression blank as he recalled it.

“You think you can _buy_ your way into this, don't you? With your 'Euromillions'.” He said it with the same sort of condescending disbelief he would have expected if they'd tried to offer Monopoly money. “You should be careful about throwing it about; lots of lottery winners end up broke, you know. They can't handle the cash.”

It had hit Eggsy right in a very new sore spot, and he'd mentally reeled under it. Now his head was full of witty retorts about the slave trade, but at the time all he'd had was some half-arsed response about living in the real word. Which hadn't worked either, and had merely earned him a backhander about life on government benefits. He was off-balance here, and very alone. Mum was dealing with enough as it was, smiling fit to make Eggsy's face ache in sympathy.

Oh, Charlie had been going on about shoe decoration. Eggsy glanced at his feet and then back at the article. He thumbed through it, sipping on his drink and pulling a face; what he wouldn't give for some larger about now.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it and Charlie's assured 'oxfords not brogues' was not as uncontroversial as he made it sound. Eggsy aimlessly followed links in his quest to be distracted. Part of him knew there was nothing he could google, no tiny factoid about etiquette or fashion that would make Charlie respect him, but Eggsy had hated being ignorant. As a child he'd devoured books, and had stuck his hand in the air whenever the teacher called for answers until he'd learned it was better not to draw attention.

And maybe some of it would offer some defence.

He found himself on one of those strange classified sites for the overly financially endowed, where a watering can cost over four hundred pounds and came with a certificate of authenticity. Eggsy swallowed a smile when he saw there was a Personal Services section.

To his disappointment, this wasn't the sort of site that allowed you to book escorts; there were tutors in making esoteric handmade goods, singing and musical instrument coaches, and a gentleman.

Eggsy was investigating the latter further when Charlie and his muppets reappeared.

“There you are, Eggy. Why are you hiding all the way over here? This is your big night.”

Eggsy shrugged. “It ain't that big. Only half a mil. And it's Eggsy. If you know how to read I'll write it down for you.”

The gentleman offered conversation, advice, companionship and courtesy, apparently. Eggsy wished he had some of those on tap right now, as he hoped blithely ignoring Charlie would make him go away.

“Don't be like that, Eggsy,” Charlie said, getting close enough that Eggsy was obliged to hide his phone screen. “Your mother was much friendlier.”

Eggsy snapped his head up. “You talked to my mum?”

“Well it _is_ her party. It would be rude not to.” Charlie rolled his eyes at him. Eggsy could sense something was coming but he didn't know what. “I mentioned we'd already met you and were great friends already and she said we were more than welcome to visit sometime, now you're all settled in.”

“Yeah right,” Eggsy said. He almost hoped Charlie did visit, just so he could slam the door in his face.

“Maybe I'll visit her instead of you. I think she likes me. It's only to be expected, a woman like her, finally coming up in the world, looking for a boytoy.” He glanced at his grinning friends, “Or three. Don't worry Eggsy, she'll have more fun with-”

With his phone in one hand, Eggsy had no choice but to throw his drink in Charlie's face rather than his fist. In the interests of propriety, and not ending up in a holding cell, he held himself back from throwing the glass as well.

He got the satisfaction of taking Charlie by surprise at least as he spluttered and put his hands to his burning eyes.

“Fuck!” Charlie said loudly, and a few heads turned. One of Charlie's friends made a grab for him and Eggsy ducked, putting his glass down on the first available flat surface and striding away before he did something even more stupid. He shouldered his way through the crowd, uncaring if it was impolite, just wanting to get some distance between him and the source of his ire.

Stupid to get wound up so easily. Stupid stupid stupid. He'd always been a fuck-up, and it had probably only been a matter of time.

He wanted to leave, to just disappear, but that would probably only make things worse in the long run, so he waited outside, his fists in his pockets and his gaze directed at the ground. He waited for someone to fetch him, and soon enough someone did. Michelle insisted he apologise to Charlie and Eggsy saw the wisdom of it and did so without argument, or much sincerity.

The incident marked the beginning of the end of the evening and it was a long and uncomfortable ride home. He refused to tell Michelle what the fight had been about; she didn't deserve to hear those sorts of things any more.

He'd ruined her big evening. He apologised to her next, and he meant it far more than he had with Charlie.

He rested his head on the window as they were driven home, Michelle sparkling and silent on the seat next to him, her lips drawn into a thin line.

I have no one to talk to, Eggsy thought. His mates would understand his fight with Charlie all too well but he didn't want encouragement. They might be proud of him, but he'd screwed up and he knew it.

Advice. Conversation. This was probably a terrible idea.

Eggsy pulled out his phone and followed the link back to the gentleman's website. There weren't any pictures, and the site made it clear that the companionship on offer was purely platonic. Well, Eggsy couldn't really imagine wanting to fuck some old-fashioned bloke who gave advice on etiquette anyway; that had to be a pretty rare kink.

Someone to talk to. Someone obliged to take him seriously. The gentleman wasn't cheap, but he was cheaper than a shrink, or, Eggsy suspected, an actual escort.

And he had lots and lots of money. Michelle had snuck an extra zero onto his monthly allowance, and kept telling him to pick whatever car he wanted for his birthday. Making up for all the things she hadn't been able to afford when he was younger, Eggsy knew, so he hadn't argued too hard.

Eggsy made a booking. He wanted to feel like he was doing something.

He put his phone away and tried again.

“Mum, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let 'em wind me up like that.”

“So you've said, Eggsy.”

Eggsy sighed; he didn't know what else to say. For what he'd paid, he hoped the gentleman's advice was very fucking good.

 

~~

The gentleman was late.

Eggsy sprawled in one of the comfortable wicker chairs towards the back of the posh little cafe he'd arranged to meet the gentleman in and wondered if he'd been had. He'd thought about cancelling the appointment a couple of times in the cold light of day after the gala, but in the end curiosity had gotten the better of him, and here he was, in designer jeans and trainers he could only have dreamt of owning six months ago, sipping coffee and nervously people watching.

There were plenty of candidates; most of the people in the cafe were well dressed, although mostly fairly young, but none of them paid any attention to him.

Eggsy sighed. If he'd wasted a hundred quid he was going to report the ad to the site, he decided. He'd finish his drink and then go; this wasn't the sort of place he liked hanging out at. It wasn't unpleasant but it was kind of boring, especially sitting here by himself.

Eggsy was keeping an eye on the door, so he didn't miss it swing open to admit the newest customer, and once he saw him Eggsy couldn't find it in himself to peel his eyes away.

There had been plenty of guys in suits in and out of the cafe; they tended to get their coffee to-go, distracted by their phones or bluetooth headsets, in and out without really seeing the people inside, but this bloke took his time to sweep his gaze around the room, and Eggsy found himself dropping his own when his attention wandered in Eggsy's direction.

 

Eggsy didn't know much about suits, but this one clung to its owner with a kind of effortless ease that looked as comfortable as Eggsy's own clothes were. It was flattering too, or so Eggsy told himself, because he had a hard time believing those broad shoulders and endless legs were entirely real.

And he was walking towards him. He wound his way through the tables, umbrella over his arm despite the fact that the day was clear, moving with a kind of restrained grace.

“Gary Unwin?” he asked, looking down at Eggsy from what seemed like a great height.

“Who the fuck are you?” Eggsy responded instinctively, forgetting his millions, forgetting he had every right to be there, feeling only worried and defensive, and pinned by sheer weight of attention conveyed by his eyes, dark brown and framed by glasses.

“My name is Harry Hart,” he said. “I believe we have an appointment.”

Oh.

_Oh._

“I'm terribly sorry I'm a bit late,” he continued as Eggsy gaped up at him. “I will refund you the extra time or add it on at the end.”

Eggsy felt a stab of disappointment that he wasn't actually an escort, as his brain supplied him with a very clear idea of the sort he'd be; the kind who'd take clients apart, put them on their knees, tell them to call him Daddy-

“That's fine,” Eggsy said quickly.

“Which?” he asked.

“Extra time,” he said, without even thinking about it.

“As you like,” he said, but it seemed to be the right answer, as the corners of his eyes crinkled in a faint smile. “May I?” he indicated the chair opposite Eggsy.

“Yeah, 'course. I'm Eggsy,” he added, and as Harry leant his umbrella against the side of the chair and folded himself into the seat Eggsy offered his hand.

“Harry. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His grip was firm and warm, and Eggsy barely felt it because Harry smiled at him, and his unapproachable aura melted into something that started to put Eggsy at ease and he had dimples, Eggsy noticed. Shit.

When the server approached Harry ordered black coffee and Eggsy stared at his left hand, relieved not to see a ring, although, God, what business was it of his?

Eggsy was obliged to pay the gentleman's expenses while he was on the clock, but he didn't order anything else. On a whim Eggsy leaned forward and ordered scones and cream for them both. He got a smile for his trouble as the server turned away.

“So, Eggsy, what can I help you with?” Harry asked, and he made it sound an entirely natural question, like they were already friends and meeting up like this was just something they did. Harry did look a bit curious though. Eggsy guessed he wasn't the usual sort of client.

“I need your advice, I guess,” Eggsy said. “I threw champagne in someone's face at a gala recently,” he admitted.

“Did they deserve it?” Harry asked, and he looked amused rather than scandalised.

Eggsy blinked in surprise at the question and then found himself smiling a little. “Well, yeah.”

“That complicates matters somewhat. If you're in the wrong you simply need to apologise.”

“I apologised anyway,” Eggsy said, his smile fading. “Figured it was the right thing to do. Mum was already upset enough.”

Harry's coffee arrived and Eggsy heaved a sigh and waited until the server had gone again.

“Something like that was bound to happen,” he said.

“Why?” Harry poured a spoonful of sugar into his coffee and stirred it carefully so as not to disturb the crema on top.

“Bit of a long story, bruv.”

Harry settled back in the chair after tasting his drink. “I like long stories,” he said, and Eggsy believed him, or wanted to believe him.

Eggsy had been a bit wary about telling people about their lottery win if he could help it; to admit to having that much money was practically asking for someone to try and get it out of you one way or another, but he was tired of bottling it up, and if you couldn't trust a gentleman, who could you trust?

“I'm not like you,” he said. “I wasn't born with a silver spoon up my arse.” He didn't want to go into that bit. His accent probably told Harry everything he needed to know anyway. “A few months ago I come home one day and Mum's like, almost hysterical. I thought something had happened to Daisy at first, and then she pushes this ticket into my hands and says I have to hide it.”

Eggsy had expected to be stuck with Dean in his life for the foreseeable future, but to his surprise when Michelle had seen a way out of the life they were leading, she'd grasped it with both hands and hadn't extended one to Dean. Eggsy knew on some level that it wasn't fair how effortless it had been to lawyer him out of their lives now they had money, but on the other hand he hadn't deserved any better.

Somehow, they'd kept everything quiet until they were ready to leave, first to a hotel and then to the huge house they now inhabited in a leafy suburb close to London. It had been an amazing few weeks, and Eggsy had spent every moment of it expecting it to turn out to be a dream.

Now Daisy was attending a posh prep school, and if nothing else Eggsy was so happy she was going to get the best of everything. That alone made it worthwhile, but a bit of shine had come off the rest of it.

“I don't know how to talk to these people,” Eggsy finished his tale, nothing left of the scones but a few crumbs. Harry hadn't said much, but he'd never looked bored or like he wasn't listening, and his few comments were reassuring. “We'll never be anything but common to them. We didn't even earn our money. It's just luck, innit?”

“They didn't earn their money either.”

“They're used to it though, they think they deserve it just for being who they are.”

“Yes.” Harry looked at him for a few moments, waiting for him to continue, and when it was clear Eggsy was done he continued. “Your lack of a silver suppository set you on a certain path, but now you have an opportunity to change it. You get to decide what sort of man you are.”

“A gentleman like you?” Eggsy said, sceptical.

“Well, I would hope so.”

“You gonna teach me to speak proper, like in _My Fair Lady?_ ”

“You are full of surprises.” The dimples made a reappearance. “No, not quite. But there is nothing wrong with your accent, and no reason to be ashamed of your background. Being a gentleman, or woman, is not about how you speak, it's about being comfortable in your own skin. A gentleman never seeks to make others feel inferior.”

Eggsy thought back to Harry's first sleek approach through the cafe and how he'd felt. “What if they feel inferior anyway?”

“Well that's not really your responsibility. Those young men at your party, for example. Should I make them feel insecure, I wouldn't feel terribly bad about it.”

Eggsy grinned. “You'd knock 'em dead, Harry.”

“You can too, Eggsy, I have no doubt you have it in you.” He sounded like he believed it.

“Could you show me then?” Eggsy asked, leaning forward, feeling brave and happier than he had in days.

“I suppose I could try,” Harry said. “I can't say I've ever had a request quite like yours, but I'll do my best to fulfil it.”

“Yeah? What do you usually get?” Eggsy realised he'd been doing all the talking, and Harry was just as much of a mystery as he was when he'd arrived.

“Mainly I'm just good company,” Harry said. “Or at least, so I'm told,” he added self-deprecatingly and Eggsy didn't buy it at all. Harry was clearly, by his own definition, a gentleman and more than self-confident in his own skin. “My clients are usually a lot older,” he said.

“Blokes as well as birds?” Eggsy asked, curious.

“Yes,” Harry said. “Of course. The widowed and the divorced mainly, although one gentleman does employ me to take his wife to the opera so he can stay home and watch the football without obliging her to go alone.”

Eggsy tilted his head, “So what do you normally do?”

“Whatever is required of me. I can do domestic tasks like cooking, etcetera, although there are far cheaper options if you want some housekeeping done, I can play chess and backgammon and tennis, and what I'm unfamiliar with I'm willing to learn. A gentleman is always interested in adding new skills to his repertoire.”

Eggsy folded his arms, “Chess don't sound all that exciting, Harry.” But he was already losing interest in that train of thought. “So you go to the opera and stuff like that like, like an escort?” He tried to say it lightly.

Harry didn't turn a hair. “Of course. I can dance, make small talk, that sort of thing.”

Eggsy frowned, “How'd you get into this? Being a professional gent, like.”

“I sort of fell into it, really. It grew out of helping some of my mother's friends, it was something I just did and when I found myself in need of employment I thought perhaps I could make a living at it. Formalise the arrangement. It's worked out reasonably well,” he added modestly.

Eggsy wondered why someone like Harry might find himself without a job, but it felt like a bit too personal of a question. He wasn't really sure where the appropriate boundaries were. They weren't actually friends.

Eggsy was wracking his brains for another question when Harry glanced at the watch on his wrist. It looked expensive but old, the metal dulled slightly with age, and the leather strap worn in to fit perfectly around Harry's wrist.

“It's been lovely to meet you, Eggsy, but I'm afraid our time is up.” He sounded genuinely regretful.

“I could buy more,” Eggsy said, surprised both by how fast the time had gone and by how much he regretted it.

“Ah, that's very kind of you,” Harry said. “But I'm afraid I have another appointment. I'm probably going to be a touch late for as it is.”

“Oh. Um, alright then.” Eggsy found himself getting to his feet as Harry stood up. “I could, you know, book again?”

“Of course. I'll look forward to it.”

He's a professional, Eggsy told himself, as Harry collected his umbrella. He's paid to make me feel like a friend, and it's what gentlemen do. It would be ridiculous to read anything more into it, but when Harry briefly took his hand in his own again, and told him it had been a pleasure to meet him, Eggsy knew he was probably fucked.

 

~~

Harry suspected he was a tiny bit fucked.

It didn't happen often, but it wasn't the first time he'd found a client intriguing. It sort of went with the territory, as did a certain level of flirtatiousness if that was what the client liked. The firm disclaimers on his website kept everything from going too far. At least, they always had done.

But his new client was unlike any other. Although he was sure he'd managed to hide it well, he'd entirely expected a puzzled shake of the head when he'd enquired after 'Gary Unwin,' even though the young man was the only male customer in the cafe obviously waiting for someone. A no-show would have been more likely.

Eggsy then. At least twenty years younger than his next youngest client, eyes you could get lost in, a distracting way of licking cream off his fingers, and possessing the same sort of rough-edged earnestness that had charmed Harry into taking home Mister Pickle ten years ago.

He was not, could not, _ever_ take Eggsy home, and even thinking about it was a bad idea. Incredibly unprofessional.

He made his way back to the nearest station briskly, although Eggsy wasn't to know he was habitually late to his appointments—just late enough to be missed, not so late as to inconvenience anyone. The speed with which Eggsy had offered to buy extra time was rather flattering.

He felt for Eggsy. His situation was not an easy one, even if most people would envy him. But he'd seemed enthusiastic and willing to listen, and Harry only hoped he was up to the task of helping him navigate such treacherous social waters.

Eggsy might be his most interesting client, and he was probably going to be his most challenging as well. Assuming, of course, he decided to make another booking.

Harry's train arrived, and he forced himself to put Eggsy out of his mind for now; he had to clear his mind and ready himself to give his next client his full attention.

When Harry got home that evening, he made himself take Mister Pickle for his evening constitutional, and put a rack of lamb in the oven before he went to check his calendar. He never accepted bookings less than twenty-four hours in advance, so he didn't have to check it constantly.

There were no new bookings. Harry pretended he wasn't disappointed, and went to pour himself a drink and slouch in front of the television while dinner cooked. He needed to be realistic; Eggsy had booked him on a whim, and apparently had enjoyed himself, but that didn't mean he was actually auditioning Harry for the role of Henry to his Eliza. He just needed a sympathetic ear and a bit of an ego boost, something that was at least fifty percent of what Harry did for a living anyway.

He should be pleased it happened, and glad he'd enjoyed himself, and he shouldn't have any further expectations that he might see Eggsy again.

The next morning, Harry checked his calender again and in the meantime Eggsy had booked him for three hours the following Monday afternoon. In the text box he'd typed _let's have lunch and you can show me how to wear a suit maybe??_

Harry thought about it, thought about teaching Eggsy how to tug on a jacket, smoothing the wrinkles out of his coat, standing next to him so he could watch him knot a tie in the mirror, have him feel a dozen different fabrics, lecture him on cut and style; the thousand fussy, fetishy things Harry could teach him. I could teach him how to wear a suit, he thought, but keeping my hands off him in the process might kill me.

He itched to dress him properly, put him in something better than the overpriced tat he'd been wearing at the cafe; he hadn't looked bad in it, true, but Harry knew if Eggsy allowed him to dress him he could make him turn every head in the street.

No.

If anything that would overwhelm him and scare him off the whole idea. He wanted to be more comfortable in a suit, nothing more.

Harry confirmed the booking. What else could he do?

Eggsy had picked a relatively expensive restaurant for them to meet at, and when Harry arrived ten minutes past the appointed time rather than having gone inside to wait Eggsy was lurking near the door, looking at his phone.

He was wearing a suit, and Harry could see how uncomfortable he was in it; the loose-limbed posture of their previous meeting had been replaced with something more uptight.

“Eggsy,” Harry said as he approached, and Eggsy snapped his head up and smiled to see him.

“You didn't have to wait outside for me. I do apologise for being late.”

“Nah I didn't want to- It's alright, Harry.”

Didn't want to go in by myself, Harry mentally finished his sentence for him.

“Well then, shall we?”

They were shown to a reserved table and Eggsy frowned, first at the wine list and then at the menu. It was a generically expensive restaurant, probably picked at random, with polished silverware on the tables and tablecloths down to the floor. It was very quiet, and during this midweek lunchtime, not terribly busy. Eggsy seemed relieved that there weren't too many other people around.

“How do you know what to get?” Eggsy asked over the top of his menu.

“If you're not worried about the cost, ask what the chef recommends. They'll usually suggest a wine to pair it with as well, although that's not likely to be the most economical option either.”

Eggsy pulled a face, “I don't really like wine. I don't see what the fuss is about.”

“A great deal depends on the wine, Eggsy, but there's no shame in ordering mineral water instead, or choosing a beer.”

Eggsy flicked his gaze up at Harry and then back down again. “Water then,” he mumbled with a frown. “What are you going to get?”

“Duck, I think. It's been a while since I had good duck.”

They made it through the ordering process unscathed, Harry following his client's lead and ordering water as well. He knew Eggsy wasn't teetotal from the story he'd told the last time they'd met, and he wondered why he'd decided against a drink with lunch. He could have used a bit of relaxing.

As soon as the waiter had gone, Eggsy got a mulish expression on his face, and asked, “Okay, so what's the difference?”

“The difference with what?” Harry asked.

“You and me. We're both wearin' the same thing, and you look, well,” Eggsy cast around for the right word. “Good. And me not so much.”

“You don't look bad, Eggsy,” Harry said, and Eggsy smiled a bit reluctantly but so charmingly Harry had to resist ladling on a few more compliments to see how he'd react. “But you're right. Simply put, my suit is bespoke and yours is not. Yours is a nice suit, and it's been altered to fit you better, but that's not the same as having one tailored to your exact measurements.”

Harry tilted his head and looked Eggsy's torso up and down, and he must have been wearing the wrong sort of expression because when he made it back up to Eggsy's face it was a bit flushed.

“It doesn't help that you're slouching, but I'd take it in a fraction, shorten the cuffs just a hair.”

“I can't help slouching,” Eggsy said, straightening up a little.

“Ah, in the right suit you will not feel the need to slouch. It is the gentleman's armour, Eggsy, it fortifies and uplifts.”

“Hm. How much does one of them bespoke suits cost then?” Eggsy asked.

“From a good tailor, about ten thousand pounds.”

Eggsy blinked at him and swallowed. “Serious? For one suit?”

Harry was not wearing the same suit he'd worn last time, and he could see the wheels in Eggsy's head turning.

“Mine cost considerably less,” Harry admitted, before Eggsy got the idea that he was being overcharged for his time.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I made it myself. My previous profession was tailoring. I make my clothes for the cost of the raw materials and I have a few of those lying around anyway.”

“Huh!” Eggsy sat back and nodded. “Makes sense. So you don't do tailoring any more?”

“Only on a strictly amateur basis.”

Their entrees arrived, and Harry explained how best to eat the oysters. Eggsy slid one down his throat and Harry watched him swallow around it and lick his lips and then pull a rather sceptical face.

“I'm not sure why people make a big deal about these,” he said, and then ate the rest anyway. Harry firmly divided his attention between his own plate and the view of the street outside the window while he did so.

“You need to get used to wearing a suit, of course,” Harry said once their mains had arrived. “A bespoke suit should fit you like a glove. Have you ever owned a pair of good gloves, Eggsy?”

Eggsy shrugged. “I dunno. I guess not.”

“You need to pull them into place, tug them on so the seams line up correctly. Because the fit is so close, if they're askew they'll not be comfortable.” Harry was starting to regret this lecture; it wasn't going anywhere he was terribly comfortable with, but Eggsy wanted to know, and he'd paid Harry to teach him. “A suit is the same, you must dress correctly. You can't just throw it on like a pair of jeans.”

“Some of the jeans I've got you gotta tug into place as well,” Eggsy said, and Harry aimed for an expression of amused exasperation rather than inappropriate interest at the mental image. He didn't answer, however, instead slicing a piece of duck while Eggsy looked thoughtful. Please don't ask me to dress you, Harry thought, although he also thought the opposite with almost equal intensity.

“Do you think I should get some gloves then?” Eggsy asked, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

“If you would like to, I'd be happy to advise.”

“Okay, let's do that when we're done here. How's your duck?”

The three hours were half up when they left the restaurant, Eggsy rather ambivalent about the food they'd just eaten. Harry suggested some places they might go to look at gloves and other gentleman's accessories, and Eggsy told him to lead on, hailing a cab, and confessing it still seemed like an extravagance.

“Mum says I should get a car, but I dunno what I want to get,” Eggsy said. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I haven't owned a car in many years. I'm fortunate enough to live quite close to town, so I don't really feel the need for one. I'd advise, but I couldn't vouch for the usefulness of my advice.”

“Worth a try, but I guess you can't know everything,” Eggsy grinned at him, and Harry was never more sorry that he didn't know everything than at that moment.

They were strolling down Savile Row, a mismatched pair if Harry had ever seen one, and Eggsy kept glancing at the umbrella Harry was holding.

“Do you take that with you every day?” Eggsy asked eventually.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It might rain.”

Eggsy tilted his head back to squint at the clear sky above. “It ain't gonna rain, Harry.”

“You never know,” he replied serenely. Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Besides,” Harry continued. “A good umbrella like this one, sturdy, made from solid materials and put together with care, is as useful as a walking stick.”

“Give the plebs a good thrashing when the mood takes you?” Eggsy teased.

“Don't tempt me,” he said, because while a better man might have been able to resist an opening like that, Harry could not.

Eggsy gaped at him with surprised delight. “You'd never.” He said it playfully, a challenge, and something in Harry desperately wanted to answer it.

He decided he wasn't going to escalate this. Eggsy was dangerous, especially because he didn't even seem to know it, merely grinning cheekily without a hint of guile.

“More prosaically, taking an umbrella every day simply means you get used to carrying it, and you're far less likely to leave it somewhere. Ah, here we are.”

Back in the day this business had been a rival to Harry's own, but he doubted anyone but the senior tailors even remembered him. The shop assistants, who greeted them politely when Harry ushered Eggsy inside, clearly didn't recognise him.

Harry waved away the offer of help; he was more than capable of assisting Eggsy in his quest for a good pair of gloves.

It was less frustrating than dressing him, but only marginally. Eggsy's hands were young and unlined, the nails bitten back rather than clipped. He had little callouses on his hands from working out, apparently, and Harry watched these hands slide into variety of gloves, Eggsy wiggling his fingers in them delightedly.

“Go on, you try some on as well,” Eggsy said encouragingly.

Harry indulged him and he looked over the selection. Eggsy had tried on a bit of everything, as Harry had explained the difference between winter and daywear gloves, and when it was appropriate to wear white evening gloves, but Harry already had a pair of both the first and the latter. Daywear gloves were an extravagance he'd never really had the money for; before it got cold enough for winter gloves he made do by putting his hands in his pockets.

Harry had large, long-fingered hands, and there was really only one pair of gloves there that fitted him perfectly. They were black peccary leather, and Harry tugged them on and flexed his fingers.

 

“A hand-sewn seam will hardly ever tear,” he said. “But if it does the leather can be resewn over and over again. Useful if one is careless and lets moths get into the lining. These are unlined, and perhaps not suitable for winter wear, but they allow you to feel the leather, and are a much closer fit than lined gloves.” He glanced at Eggsy and to his surprise he wasn't looking at his hands, instead his eyes were on Harry's face. They were standing close together, so their conversation wouldn't disturb the quiet of the shop.

Harry took the gloves off again, taking the opportunity to move back a fraction as he did so.

“Did you find a pair that you particularly like?” he asked.

“Yes, Harry. I'll take them both,” he said a bit more loudly, and the shop assistant, who'd been politely busying himself until required, looked up with a genial smile.

“Both?”

Eggsy smiled and took the gloves out of Harry's hands. “One pair each,” he said.

“Eggsy, you really don't have to-”

“I know. I insist,” he said, with a kind of snobby little bow of his head and a pleased look on his face. Harry knew when he was beaten and he accepted defeat gracefully.

“Thank you, Eggsy, it's very generous of you.”

Eggsy beamed. “I could see you really liked 'em.”

Eggsy wasn't beaming quite so widely when they left, each with their gloves in a box tucked under their arm.

“I really was generous, wasn't I?” he said, sounding a bit shell-shocked. Harry rather hoped he'd learned his lesson, and if he'd got a lovely pair of gloves out of it in the process, well, he wasn't complaining.

“Look after them and they'll last you a lifetime,” Harry said.

“They are really nice,” Eggsy said, glancing at the box. “I mean, I kind of wish it was winter now, so I had an excuse to wear 'em.”

“It will come.” Harry glanced at his watch. They'd gone slightly over time.

Eggsy was watching him. “Time's up isn't it?” he said a bit regretfully.

“I'm afraid so.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” Eggsy asked, and Harry didn't have the heart to enforce his twenty-four hour rule, not after being treated to a two-hundred-pound pair of gloves; it seemed petty to insist.

He took out his phone instead, and brought up the calendar.

“I'm afraid not. Most of Thursday is free, however.”

“Nah, I promised I'd take Daisy to her kiddies swim lesson, and that means ice cream afterwards at least,” Eggsy said. “I'll work something out. Soon.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

“See ya, Harry.” Eggsy ducked his head, and despite the suit loped off like he was in jeans, which, while not ideal, was probably an improvement on his earlier body language. It was certainly a bit endearing.

 

~~

Eggsy had indeed learned something important during his afternoon buying gloves, but it wasn't the lesson Harry might have hoped for. As happy as he was with his new gloves, he was even happier with Harry's. He'd spent his life never really able to give the people around him the things they wanted, and now, now he could. Almost effortlessly.

Harry had wanted those gloves. He hadn't hesitated picking them out, and Eggsy could see how well they fit when he slid them onto his hands. Such hands; Harry didn't have much grey in his hair, and he definitely didn't have the body of an average middle-aged man, but the backs of his hands were weathered, old and strong-looking and steady. When he'd flexed his fingers it had taken all of Eggsy's self control not to reach out, feel the leather for himself.

He felt energised, just as he had after his first meeting with Harry, and he jogged up the gravel path to the new house, smiling to himself. Mum had bought most of Daisy's new things, and Eggsy had been happy to watch and enjoy their happiness at one remove. He'd definitely enjoyed strolling into Stuarts and ordering a new wardrobe without even looking at the price tags.

But Harry's smile, the way he acquiesced when Eggsy insisted, how _pleased_ he was, even though he'd been oh so polite about it. Eggsy just wanted to do something extra for him, make him happy beyond merely paying for his time.

The cleaning service was working on the kitchen when Eggsy walked in, and he really didn't know how to act around them. They were a mother and daughter team from somewhere in eastern Europe, and they called him Sir. He smiled awkwardly and got himself the beer from the fridge he'd decided against having with lunch; Harry's attention made him feel a bit tipsy and he didn't want to mix it with actual alcohol. Not yet. He wondered what Harry would be like after a few, would he unwind a bit, smile easier, slouch in his chair, suit or not, _tease_ him?

_Don't tempt me._

It was something to consider, maybe, a future outing.

He fled from the housekeeping, heading upstairs to his bedroom. Michelle was just as uncomfortable with them as he was, and had probably taken Daisy out shopping or to the park. He set his beer and the box with the gloves in it on the table and started tugging at his tie. He stopped, walked to the mirror, and stared at his suit.

He straightened his shoulders, parade-ground stance, lifting his head and looking his reflection in the eye. He should have asked Harry to show him, but his nerve had cracked. If Harry had started touching him, even through his clothes, he'd probably have just embarrassed himself.

It's not like Harry was the only gent in the world, Eggsy thought, unknotting his tie. It shouldn't be too hard to find equally good advice online. He liked the idea of surprising Harry, impressing him. Now he knew how much of an expert Harry was on the whole topic, he was sure he'd notice.

He couldn't really afford one of those bespoke suits without asking his mum for more cash or saving up his allowance for a while. He'd wait. He'd want Harry's advice, if he ever decided to get one made. In the meantime, he hung his suit up with a bit more care than he had the last time he'd worn it. Despite what Harry had said, it was a huge relief to be out of it, and he felt much more like himself in a tshirt and jeans.

He sat down at his table and picked up the box. He slid off the top and stared at the gloves nestled in the tissue paper inside. There was a little booklet included, with instructions for taking care of them, and Eggsy glanced at it before putting it aside.

He wondered if Harry was doing the same thing, right now, in whatever sort of home he lived in; Eggsy wasn't sure but he imagined it was as perfectly put-together as Harry himself was, all polished wood and antiques.

He slipped the glove onto his right hand, marvelling at the fit. He touched his fingertips to the bare skin of his other hand, brushing the leather across his knuckles, tracing a vein up to his wrist. Like this he could almost pretend it was someone else's hand, someone else wearing obscenely expensive leather gloves. He wrapped his gloved fingers around his own wrist, tugging on it slightly, possessively, squeezing, feeling his own tendons flex under his fingers.

A sudden burst of laughter had him flinching as he sat up abruptly and looked around. He relaxed when he realised it was one of the cleaners downstairs. They'd already been through his room, his bed made, his rubbish bin empty, but nevertheless he pulled off the glove, one finger at a time, involuntarily remembering how Harry did it, delicate but swift, and put it back in its box, his heart pounding like he'd been doing something wrong.

He picked up his beer instead, and turned up his speakers that had been muted in his absence before leaning back in his chair. And smiled.

Giving Harry those gloves had felt so right, and he definitely had to do something like that again. What was the point of having lots of money if you only spent it on yourself? Harry had been pleased, pleased beyond his polite, gentlemanly exterior that was obliged to be pleased, and Eggsy wanted to repeat the experience, as much as Harry would let him.

Eggsy knew Harry would definitely try and stop him spending more money on his behalf, because a gentleman like him would not want to take advantage, so he'd have to come up with a strategy.

He sat up again, and loaded Harry's website, wondering when he should next make a booking. He knew exactly where he wanted to take Harry next.

“I want to buy a new phone today,” Eggsy announced, as Harry shook his hand. It had been a week since they'd last seen each other. Eggsy didn't like booking less than a couple of hours at a stretch; so he'd had to wait until Harry was free for the afternoon again. Eggsy supposed Harry was popular, and why not; he was the only one of his profession, and he performed it well.

The thought hadn't made the wait any easier. Eggsy had spent some time doing independent research on suits and how to wear them, and had taken to wearing his own around the house when no one else was home. He felt a little more used to it, but he still didn't think he approached Harry's attitude. He hadn't worn the suit today, and in his jeans he fitted much better into the crowds than Harry did as they made their way down Regent Street.

“We're goin' to the Apple Store,” Eggsy said, although they weren't in a hurry. They paused at the odd shop window and Eggsy watched Harry as closely and as surreptitiously as he could, in case there was something he liked. He wasn't really surprised to draw a blank; Harry's clothes were peerless, and nothing off the rack could come close.

Eggsy wondered if Harry ever dressed more casually, and found he had both a hard time imagining it and a very fierce desire to find out for certain.

“You know I find it rather surprising,” Harry said as they sighted the Apple Store. “That you didn't buy a new phone as a priority when you received your winnings.”

“Well, you know,” Eggsy said and shrugged.

Luckily, Harry didn't press it, looking about the Apple Store with the air of a tourist. They were immediately approached to see if they needed help and Eggsy asked to be directed to the phones, Harry ambling along behind, keeping his umbrella held close to his side so as not to inconvenience anyone. It was quite crowded, although as always Eggsy felt the ratio of employees to customers was a little excessive.

What did they do all day, he wondered.

Eggsy declined further offers of help as he picked up the newest model of iPhone. He had one himself, so he already knew all about it, and Harry listened politely as he started explaining its features. He tilted the screen so Harry could see what he was doing as he demonstrated, and Harry stood close so he could watch, and Eggsy basked in it. He didn't think there were too many things he could teach Harry, so he'd enjoy it while it lasted.

“You know a lot about it,” Harry said.

“He could probably get a job here,” another customer joked at them.

“I do my research,” Eggsy said, winking at her. “So what do you think?” he asked, passing the phone over so Harry could see how it fitted into his hand.

“I'm afraid you're the expert here. The most I could do help you pick a colour.”

“Yeah! Let's see what colours they got.”

Eggsy had the gold one, but he wasn't surprised when Harry deemed it a bit too much and gravitated towards the dark grey.

“So you like that one?” Eggsy asked, innocently.

Too innocently. Harry looked at him, his eyes narrowing suddenly and Eggsy realised he'd been sprung as Harry frowned at him and put the phone down on the counter.

“Eggsy, no.”

“Harry, yes. We'll take it,” Eggsy said firmly, striding to the check out area in determination, Harry hot on his heels. He was not going to be intimidated by that glare, he told himself. Or he wasn't going to show it, anyway.

“I can't,” Harry said. “Absolutely not. I don't need the phone.”

Eggsy ignored him and put his elbows on the counter to make his purchase.

“Eggsy I won't let you buy me a phone,” Harry said, almost elbowing his way to his side.

“You can't stop me, you realise,” Eggsy said, although Harry was clearly willing to give it a try.

The employee hesitated, looking from one to the other. Eggsy could have let it go at this point, because Harry was wearing a distinctly mulish expression, but Harry's phone was _ancient_ and honestly there was nothing wrong in accepting something that you needed from someone who could easily afford it and in fact _enjoyed_ giving you things. This gentleman stuff was all very well, but you could take it too far.

“Eggsy I'm asking you,” Harry said.

“I'm buying the phone,” Eggsy said, not looking at Harry and setting his jaw. “Come on.”

“Um.” The employee, a handful of years younger than Eggsy himself, looked a bit uncertain. Her eyes flicked from Harry to Eggsy and then back to Harry again. Eggsy didn't know why; it wasn't like it was any of her business what happened to the phone after that. All she had to do was sell it to him. “Do you need to talk about it a bit more first, Sirs?” she ventured hopefully, still mostly speaking to Harry.

“Why are you looking at him?” Eggsy asked, although, to be fair, Harry was worth looking at, but he was the customer here. She could ogle him on the way out. “ _I'm_ buying the phone.”

“But if your ah, friend-”

“What does it matter?” Eggsy practically jabbed his card at her, and then paused when Harry's hand covered his own, warm and heavy and Eggsy was so mad at himself for the way his heart jumped. He turned to Harry, ready to make some more arguments, but Harry shook his head.

 

“All right,” Harry said. “I do need a new phone, I admit it. Let's not argue about it. It's very kind of you, Eggsy, thank you.”

“Yeah. Good.” Eggsy was a little startled by Harry's sudden about-face, and it took the wind out of his sails a little, but he wasn't going to complain about his good fortune. Finally, the shop assistant accepted Eggsy's card, although she kept glancing at Harry while she arranged the purchase, and explained the usual things that Eggsy had heard before. He kept trying to hurry her through it, still half expecting Harry would change his mind.

Harry was gracious. Of course he was. He listened to her carefully, murmuring 'how useful' and 'thank you' when appropriate and Eggsy sort of let himself sink back away from the conversation after a little while.

Eggsy wasn't quite game to look at Harry just yet. He felt a bit guilty now; this hadn't gone quite as he'd planned. He'd expected to buy the phone and then give it to Harry, when it would be too late for him to refuse. Unfortunately, he'd overplayed his hand, and now things were just sort of weird and awkward.

The shop assistant handed Harry the box, which was disappointing; Eggsy had wanted to do that bit, but on the other hand he also wanted this whole thing to be over. He heaved a sigh as they walked out of the store, probably to the relief of the employee who'd served them, as much as Harry had tried to make it up to her.

“Why didn't she want to take my money?” Eggsy grumbled, as they rejoined the crowds of tourists strolling past outside.

Harry raised an eyebrow, like he'd asked a silly question.

Eggsy shrugged. “What?”

“Because she thought it was _my_ money you were using to pay for it,” he explained.

“Why?” Eggsy looked up to see Harry regarding him with a faintly apologetic expression. “I was buying it for you.”

“Yes, but when people look at us they make assumptions.” He gestured between them.

Eggsy turned slightly to look at their reflection in the glass window of the Apple Store. “They think you're my sugar daddy,” he said. Of course they would. Posh older guy in a bespoke suit and a twenty-four year old in expensive trainers. Eggsy supposed he'd think the same thing if he saw them walking down the steet.

“I'm terribly sorry if I've made things awkward.”

Eggsy shrugged, “Nah, I think it was my fault this time. And it's fine. I ain't bothered. I mean, I mighta been once back when, well, I might have been tempted you know? If someone had offered to buy me things.” If it had been someone who looked and acted like Harry, he would have been very tempted indeed, and Eggsy told his traitorous brain to shut it. “But now I don't care; besides, we know better. If anyone's the sugar daddy around here it's me, right?”

Eggsy grinned, trying to lighten the mood, but Harry wasn't having any of it, frowning at him.

“Eggsy, you didn't need to buy me anything. And this is really too much.” He looked down at the pristine box in his hands.

“I want to,” Eggsy said earnestly, leaning in a little. “It's fine, the money don't mean nothing, I just wanted to get you something.”

“I don't need a sugar daddy, Eggsy.”

“I wasn't. I mean, I don't want you to owe me or something, I just really liked.” Okay, if he kept on in that vein he was going to make more of an idiot of himself and Harry was looking at him, kindly but a bit disappointed as well, and Eggsy felt a sharp stab of anger because it was just a goddamn phone, and he was just being _nice_ , and what kind of gentleman made a big awkward deal out of someone being nice? “It was a joke, Harry. I'd never- I'd never want to _buy_ you, I mean, more than I already do. How could you think that?”

“What else am I supposed to think?”

Eggsy didn't know how to answer that one. He wasn't sure himself. He definitely didn't want Harry to feel obligated, he just wanted him to be _pleased_. But he knew the weight of other people's money, and it wasn't all that relative; twenty pounds resentfully snatched from Dean's fingers was just as weighty as the half a million Michelle gave to the Centre for Underprivileged Youth. It carried expectations, and he should have known that.

“I'm sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I know your heart is in the right place, Eggsy,” Harry said.

It wasn't entirely, he thought, but he smiled.

“Come on,” Harry said. “Let's find somewhere to sit down and you can show me how to get this thing set up properly.”

“Yes, Harry.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry came home early. The sun was still shining when he walked home from the tube station, umbrella over his arm and the new iPhone burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been prepared, at the start of the day, to agree should Eggsy ask for extra time as he had nothing else in his calendar. He might have even been looking forward to it, but the phone business had changed his mind. When the clock had struck ten minutes past the hour (he had been a little late to arrive, after all) he'd bid Eggsy a good afternoon.

Eggsy had drawn breath, eyebrows raised and eyes widened in supplication, and Harry knew he was going to ask for more time—and then he hadn't. He'd read something off Harry's face, and his shoulders had dropped and he's smiled and told him he'd see him again soon.

Eggsy was surprisingly perceptive when he cared to be, when he wasn't just barrelling forwards with no thought to the consequences of his actions.

Harry had to make it clear that these presents Eggsy insisted on getting for him bought him no extra favour; he had a business and he charged fairly and it seemed a slippery slope to start accepting gifts if they came with expectations. He really shouldn't have accepted them at all, but Eggsy had chosen them pretty well, and he'd seemed very determined that they be accepted and it was rude to outright refuse them. Eggsy clearly knew that and wasn't above taking advantage of it.

Harry unlocked his front door and once he'd opened it stooped to pick up the mail. He could hear Mr Pickle's collar jingling as he shook himself, and the dog himself trotted out moments later, tail beating a lackadaisical welcome against Harry's leg while the animal nosed at Harry's shoes and accepted a gentle pat on his silky head.

“At least there's now plenty of time to take you for a stroll, hm?” Harry said. He had no shame about talking to his dog; he lived alone, and who else was he going to talk to? He sorted his mail into bills and junk, binning the latter and putting the former on his desk, and went upstairs to take off his suit.

He didn't get all that far.

He took out his new phone and stared at it without unlocking the screen. Eggsy had sat them down in a cafe and delighted in showing Harry everything his new device could do. He'd also installed himself in Harry's contact list, although Harry kept most of his regular clients in his contacts anyway. Of course, he listed them under their last names, with an initial if one was required for clarity. Eggsy had labelled himself _Sugar Eggsy_ and Harry knew he wasn't going to change it. It made him smile and irritated him in equal amounts and didn't that just sum up Eggsy himself?

Forget the stroll, he might go for a run. He wanted to work off some energy and clear his head. He'd take Mr Pickle for a walk first though; the old dog wasn't so good at keeping up with Harry when he went running nowadays, a turnaround from when Harry had to run to keep up with the energetic pup.

When Harry arrived home for the third time that evening, he was gasping. He walked up his driveway with his hands on his hips and cool evening air burning in his throat. Mr Pickle greeted him with exactly the same level of enthusiasm has he had a couple of hours prior, and Harry couldn't manage much more than a smile in response.

He hated running. Well, truth be told he wasn't fond of exercise in general, but when one played sport there was at least the motivation of friendly competition. Running was just self-abuse.

But he was awfully motivated today. He didn't like to think on why he'd pushed himself so hard, as he dragged himself upstairs and shucked his sweat soaked clothes while he waited for the shower to warm up. He'd acquired a new puppy, metaphorically speaking, and he wanted to make sure he could keep up with him.

God, it was so much effort at this age; keeping in shape had seemed almost effortless for the first forty-odd years of his life, but now it was an endless chore. Harry let the hot water cascade over his shoulders as the bathroom filled up with steam. Well, a good run had its rewards also, and the pleasure of relaxing afterwards was one of them.

He felt calmer, but his head wasn't entirely clear, as he mentally reviewed the events of the afternoon while he lathered himself up. After Eggsy had finished introducing him to his phone, they'd fallen into talking about more general matters. Harry hadn't been trying to pry, exactly, but Eggsy was happy to tell him about their new house, and it wasn't hard for Harry to put a few pieces together.

His first conclusion was that Eggsy was rich. Rich enough that he hadn't grasped just how rich he was. He was still uncertain about what sort of car he should get for his birthday, even though Harry knew there wasn't one on the planet that he wouldn't be able to afford. Even if the Unwins were unreasonably profligate, the worth of their new house had to be at least a few million, which indicated a windfall in the tens of millions at least.

And Eggsy hadn't seemed to notice. Harry knew rich people; he'd spent his youth going to school with them, and the rest of his life serving them, either making them clothes or accompanying them to the opera, and quite a few of them were kind, generous people, but always in spite of their position, rather than because of it. A great many more of them were entitled pricks.

Despite (or, Harry suspected, because of) his public spat with Charlie, Eggsy was already getting invitations to clubs and parties as one of the young and moneyed. He'd seemed a bit ambivalent about the whole thing, shrugging and saying he wouldn't know anyone there, but Harry knew soon enough people would put effort into knowing him. He was worth knowing; he was charming and different, and frankly attractive, and most endearingly didn't seem to realise just how much.

They're going to ruin him, he thought, if he's not careful. He'll come to see how little is holding him back, how much the world was going to offer him, free, on a silver platter. He'd be flattered and cajoled and tempted and Eggsy wasn't stupid, wasn't without a good head on his shoulders, but he was young and the fact that he'd gone to Harry in the first place indicated how aware he was of his inexperience.

He could have wound up with a different sort of mentor, Harry thought. Someone who was less of a gentleman, and if a gentleman does anything it is his duty. Which in this case, meant not pissing off Eggsy so much he'd give up on him, and by the same token, not taking advantage of him himself.

And oh, that was the thought he'd circumnavigated the nearby park trying to get away from. Eggsy was so pleased with him, he basked in Harry's attention, fretted when he irritated him, and was so eager for his approval he'd resorted to buying him things, for fuck's sake. He probably didn't know exactly what he wanted when he looked at Harry; to be him, perhaps, or to be his son, or to be his something else.

Harry thought about looking into his bright green eyes, observing the way he licked the rim of his tea cup to see how hot it was before he put his lips on it, admiring, circumspectly, the way he filled the seat of his fashionably tight jeans, and he wondered how he managed to stop himself from seducing him.

The only thing his run hadn't exhausted, besides his brain, was his dick, and it twitched against his leg, lengthening as the hot water streamed over it. Harry ignored it, shutting his eyes and dunking his head under the water to rinse out the shampoo.

Eggsy wouldn't be hard to seduce, as he was already halfway there. Harry with his perfect suits and polished vowels and filthy mouth; Eggsy had mentioned, when talking about the parties he'd been invited to, that posh girls liked a bit of rough. Well, the fascination went both ways, didn't it? Harry didn't do all this running just for his health; he looked pretty damn good and he knew it.

But.

He twisted off the taps and swept his hair back out of his eyes.

The suit came off. The shine came off. Eggsy might like the idea of being bent over by a gent in a ten thousand pound suit, but Harry suspected he wasn't prepared for the bachelor in late middle-age that accompanied it, with dog hairs on his sofa, a house with slightly dodgy plumbing, a back that creaked and a thousand tiny habits and peccadilloes that would probably drive an easy-going young thing like Eggsy crazy.

Harry couldn't see any good coming from it; his professional face was not a mask, and he did not lie, but he was more than what he appeared as well, and most of the rest of it was shabby and a little strange, and could only be a disappointment. He wrapped the towel around his waist and padded into the bedroom. The iPhone was sitting on the bedside table where he'd left it and he picked it up. He wasn't surprised to see Eggsy had sent him a text.

_How do u like ur new phone? ;)_

Of course he'd put Harry's number in his own contacts, under the flimsy pretext of showing Harry how it worked. He'd waited a beat for Harry to object, but Harry had said nothing, and now, as he sat on the edge of the bed, cradling his phone in his hands, he wondered if he regretted that a little.

He sat there for a little while, and then he put the phone aside without unlocking it, and went to put on some clothes and make some dinner.

~~

Eggsy waited in vain for Harry to respond to his text. A dozen times he considered sending more, teasing or chatting until it simply became too rude not to reply, but that would not be the gentlemanly thing to do. So he didn't. Harry seemed to have warmed up to the idea of having a new phone, but Eggsy didn't want to push it as much as he wanted to enjoy Harry's remote attention via texts.

He hadn't given up on the idea of giving Harry things, but he might have gone about it with too much enthusiasm, and aside from that, he didn't really have any other ideas as to what to get him. Shoes and scarves and pens all came to mind, but Harry probably had all of those that he needed, and they seemed a bit too...daddish. Whatever he wanted from Harry he was pretty sure it was not a father figure (was it? Sometimes he felt uncertain, like it was so obvious a fatherless child would attach himself to an older man that he was merely confused in wanting more.)

Not that Eggsy really remembered his father to be certain of that, but he wanted his presents to be exciting, thoughtful, and _right_.

So he let it be for now, and let Harry be for a little while, as he had a sudden rush of social invitations. He honestly wasn't sure where they all came from, or how they'd managed to get his address, but after deciding to ignore a couple of invitations to parties from people he didn't know (and was secretly worried were friends of Charlie) he decided it couldn't hurt to try out one of these clubs.

Six months ago he wouldn't have dreamed of ever being let in, and now they were sending him little cards practically begging him. It was flattering and Eggsy was flattered, but he wasn't going to go anywhere he couldn't take his mates, he decided.

They let his mates in. Wide eyed and grinning as they whispered to each other in the lift, and defensively loud and boisterous when they entered the rooftop club proper, Eggsy was politely told he was most welcome to start a bar tab, but he either paid for his friends or they paid as they went. Eggsy rolled his eyes and said he'd pay. As much as the pair of them could put away, he was good for it and they slapped his back and told him they'd owe him a round next time.

He was grateful beyond words that Ryan and Jamal didn't treat him any differently. They hadn't asked him for money, and Eggsy almost wished they would, but they had a bond stronger than mere cash could break and although it remained unspoken they all knew Eggsy was prepared to give them the shirt off his back if their need was dire.

The club was on the roof of one of the ugly new buildings in the city. It wasn't huge, being only one floor, and it was lit by flaming sconces, wrought iron and tall enough that even the most determined drunk would have trouble singing their eyebrows off. There was a glowing pool in which a handful of people floated about, and low tables and cosy couches lined the sides of the area, a small dance floor was as unoccupied as the bar was busy, and the bass seemed to well up out of the floor.

It was crowded but not packed, and although Eggsy didn't see any bespoke suits, he saw a lot of very expensive clothing, some of it getting ruined in the pool.

“Wow,” Ryan said, and for once he wasn't actually looking at a girl when he said it. He was staring out over London, spread out before them like they owned it. The night was fairly warm, and occasionally gusts of heat wafted down from the flaming braziers. Eggsy suspected the three of them looked like rabbits in the headlights just standing and staring, and he suggested the bar.

It was a cocktail bar, of course, and they ordered at random, Jamal hissing a horrified “Twenty-five quid,” in Eggsy's ear when he saw how much his drink cost. Eggsy shrugged. He hadn't come out with the intention of saving money.

Everything felt a little less intimidating after a drink, although Eggsy had to prod his friends to order a second one because of the expense.

“I can recommend something,” someone purred behind them as they were staring uncertainly at the menu. She was black, wearing a sheath dress that sparkled with dozens of Swarovski crystals, and she had an accent posher than the Queen. Her name was Valorous (no, I don't shorten it to Val,) and she wanted to welcome the new faces.

To Eggsy's surprise, all three of them proved to be popular. Valorous didn't stay for long, but by then they'd met half a dozen of her friends and acquaintances.

Sometime after midnight Eggsy had the presence of mind to shuck his jacket and trainers before he was pulled into the pool. He floated in his jeans and shirt, looking up at the stars while a girl named Roxy, who was lying on her stomach next to the pool so she could talk to him, despite the damage likely being done to her dress, and said things that sounded awfully smart, and his friends fooled about and laughed, and Eggsy realised he was young and rich and everything really was wonderful after all.

Things were slightly less wonderful when they eventually climbed out, the night air cold, and their clothes wet and clinging. The girls—everyone seemed to have armfuls of girls—wanted to warm up and Eggsy thought they had the right idea as he tried not to visibly shiver, and they staggered around, collecting shoes and wringing out their hair and laughing. Roxy had eventually joined him in the water and her bare arms and legs gleamed in the firelight as she hunted for her shoes.

“Take me home,” Sasha or Sandra said to Jamal, swaying gently against his side. Jamal looked like a man in a dream until his eyes widened in sheer horror and he met Eggsy's gaze. Right. Sasha or Sandra probably wouldn't be very impressed with the flat Jamal shared with his parents and sisters.

“It's too far,” Eggsy said. “And I'm too fucking cold. This place is a hotel, innit? We'll just hire a suite. Private party.”

Jamal looked at Eggsy like he could kiss him, which Eggsy was definitely not up for because Jamal was a mate, but he acknowledged the sentiment.

“You're so nice,” Roxy said, straightening up, with her heels in hand. I am, Eggsy thought, but tonight everyone is nice.

They ended up with more people in the suite than Eggsy remembered inviting, but everyone seemed like they were having a good time, as the swimmers stripped down to their underwear and shared out the ridiculously thick hotel towels and dressing gowns.

Sasha or Sandra dragged Jamal off for a shower, and the rest of them ordered food and drinks from room service and the conversation and laughter swirled around the room. Eggsy thought it was the best party he'd ever been to.

The numbers thinned as some people left, or made for one of the bedrooms, and Eggsy sat on the floor wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, with his back to the couch facing the window so he could look out over the lights of London. Roxy, similarly garbed, was a warm weight against his side as they passed a bottle of champagne back and forth; Eggsy was too buzzed to object to the taste any more, either that or he was getting used to it.

Roxy had revealed she knew about his lottery win, and she'd looked thoughtful and said it had to be complicated. She didn't make Eggsy feel guilty or patronised, and he thought she was one of the most wonderful people he'd ever met, in a happy, drunk sort of way as he idly petted her hair. She was so pretty. God, everyone they'd met had been pretty.

There was a thump and a giggle from one of the bedrooms. Jamal and Sasha or Sandra had curled up together on one of the big armchairs and fallen asleep, so it wasn't them. Eggsy honestly wasn't sure who else was still here. He supposed it didn't matter much.

Eggsy looked at Roxy as she held up the bottle to see how much was left in it.

“You don't really want a shag,” he said, the thought occurring to him just as he said it, his brain-to-mouth filter mostly washed away.

She shrugged. “We can if you want.”

“Nah.” Eggsy let his head loll back against the couch. “This is good.” He sensed Roxy liked him but wasn't into him. He'd have been up for it if she had been, but he wasn't invested in the idea.

“You're so nice,” she said with a crooked smile. “You're so, so nice.” She rested her head on his shoulder and yawned, and Eggsy wanted to make a joke about 'just nice?' but the words were all jumbled and he set the bottle aside carefully. He'd probably had enough.

Eggsy woke with the sun burning in his eyes and his head pounding. He was still lying on the floor, but Roxy had gone. Eggsy staggered to his feet and went to look for some water, but there were so many bottles in the room he gave up trying to find the right ones and went into the bathroom to drink straight from the tap.

Jamal had gone. He found Ryan in one of the bedrooms without any pants on but still wearing his shirt and it took him five minutes to get him to wake up.

His phone was full of notifications; a dozen friend requests on facebook, a couple of dozen on instagram, and a message from _Roxyyy_ that read: _Thanks for the hangover at least I've got the cure._ Followed by a picture of a plate with eggs benedict arranged artfully in the middle.

Eggsy shook his head and smiled. She didn't have a clue. He pulled on his clothes, still a bit damp, and took Ryan out to find a proper breakfast to show Roxy how it was done.

Somehow, Eggsy had arrived. In the course of a single evening he'd apparently made dozens of friends, or at least made a good impression on people, and he found himself tagged in the sort of photos he was used to seeing in the society pages of the tabloids his mum used to bring home from the supermarket.

He'd also made a deep impression on his finances, made deeper by the hotel charging him for getting the carpets cleaned on the suite. Eggsy didn't think _that_ much water had ended up on the floor, but he didn't feel like arguing about it, even if he did have to go to Michelle and explain why he was short of cash.

She took it pretty well, and forgave him entirely when Roxy dropped by one morning to pick him up in her Porsche roadster to take him horseback riding at her family's estate. Eggsy could see Michelle's eyes light up as she measured Roxy up as a potential daughter-in-law and found her Exceeding Expectations. Eggsy hastened to nip that in the bud, although he was sure he hadn't entirely succeeded.

As a young man comfortably if not defiantly bisexual, unsolicited dick pics were not something Eggsy was unused to getting. Unsolicited tit pics were a new experience, however.

He'd been obliged to wait until his next allowance arrived before he felt comfortable hiring Harry again; it was second nature to keep a little cash in reserve, but he felt a bit guilty about making him wait so long. And he'd missed him; his heart leaped a little when he saw the tall, familiar figure striding through the crowd, umbrella as ever on his arm. Harry greeted him as pleasantly as if they'd met only yesterday, but Eggsy hurried to explain why they hadn't seen much of each other anyway, as they strolled along Piccadilly Circus in search of a place to have lunch.

“I hardly know her, Harry. And I certainly didn't ask her to send me a picture of her knockers. How does a gentleman respond to that?”

“Do you wish to deepen your acquaintance with the lady in question?” Harry asked.

Eggsy shook his head. “Not really.” He'd thought he'd met her at the club, and she claimed to have been in attendance at his party afterwards, but Eggsy had quickly worked out a great many more people claimed to have been there than could have reasonably fitted in the suite. If he lost his mind and offered to host another one he'd have to reserve the entire floor (and several people had suggested he should.)

“When rejecting someone's advances, one should be compassionate but firm. It's tempting to try and soften the blow, but that can often backfire. Your lack of response so far probably speaks volumes, but if you want you could say you appreciate the gesture but you don't feel it's appropriate.”

“That's a bit formal, isn't it?” Eggsy asked, trying not to wonder how much experience Harry had in rejecting suitors.

“Well, I'm afraid I'm not really _au fait_ with the-”

“Yes, all right, I get it. You're older than dirt and inscribed your Dear John letters on stone tablets,” Eggsy said, taking out his phone.

“Sarcasm doesn't become you,” Harry said severely.

Eggsy grinned. “But it suits you so well, Harry. Okay, how about this, 'Sorry luv, not that kind of guy'?”

Harry raised an eyebrow, “Aren't you?”

Eggsy gaped, and he was sure he could feel a flush creeping over his cheeks, because if Harry felt like testing out the camera on his new phone, Eggsy would not object in the slightest. But. “Of course not,” Eggsy said, drawing himself up a little. “A gent would ask first before sending all the filthy photos.”

“Quite right, Eggsy.” Harry smiled at him, amused and proud and Eggsy felt like a bit of a heel for imagining what his dick would look like in high definition. “How do you feel about Chinese for lunch?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Over lunch Eggsy told Harry about his adventures, because he wanted to keep Harry up to date with his life, and he wanted Harry to know that despite everything he wasn't dating anyone.

“I don't get it though,” he said. “I keep getting all these friend requests, and they're all gorgeous. One of 'em said she wanted to see where I grew up, that she wanted to understand me. How weird is that?”

Harry was regarding him with a faintly pitying expression.

“What?”

“Eggsy, hasn't it occurred to you that you are one of the most eligible bachelors in London right now? And that is saying rather a lot.” Harry sounded rather exasperated.

“Well, I mean. Sort of.” In a nebulous sense, he supposed. “But I ain't looking to get married, even if I am a single man in possession of a good fortune.” At Harry's look he shrugged and added, “I watched the TV series with Mum.” Maybe a couple of times.

“I would hope you're more of a Darcy than a Bingly,” Harry said, wielding his chopsticks with precision.

“Workin' on it,” Eggsy said. “I got some good help, don't I? Although.” He winced. “I overspent on my allowance last time. That hotel suite; people went a bit nuts on the room service.”

Harry shrugged. “These things happen. As long as you learn from your mistakes and don't repeat them, a few thousand pounds is, for you, neither one way or the other.”

“I did have fun,” Eggsy said. “And I met Roxy. She's a bit like you; she knows her stuff. Of all the people I met, it's like, she's gonna be the real mate. If I had to give all the money back tomorrow, I think she'd still be my friend, you know?”

“I do,” Harry said.

Eggsy's smile faded as he realised that, should such a thing come to pass, Roxy might remain his friend, but Harry wouldn't. His company was conditional on Eggsy having a lot of spare cash to pay for it.

“Eggsy.” For once Harry actually looked slightly awkward. “Don't doubt for a moment that I enjoy your company. I can pick and choose my clients to a certain extent.”

Eggsy appreciated the sentiment and he smiled, but there was still this dark kernel of sadness lodged in his chest; he paid for Harry and it was the basis of their relationship and he couldn't see any way of changing that.

So he did what a gentleman should when the conversation takes an uncomfortable turn, and he changed the subject.

“Do you have any advice then, on being a Darcy not a Bingly?”

“Yes. You may not like it much; I don't think you'll find it fun.” He looked so serious, Eggsy frowned and leaned forward a little. Harry looked into his eyes. “Don't trust anyone else to look after your finances. Hire an accountant, certainly, but watch them like a hawk.”

“Well.” Eggsy frowned. “I mean, Mum's handling all of that stuff for now. Technically it's all her money; she's the one who won.”

Harry was looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised, and Eggsy rubbed the back of his neck, because, yeah, he loved his mum but he had to admit she didn't always make the best choices. She'd been working really hard since the win to do everything right, and he didn't doubt she was _trying_ , but—

“Is it really my business though?” he asked.

“If your mother doesn't want you to interfere with the family finances, there isn't a lot you can do other than look after your own income, but on the other hand it may be a relief to her for you to share the responsibility. You should try, Eggsy. Just because someone loves you doesn't mean they'll act in your best interests, and that goes doubly so for someone who is merely employed to act in your best interests.”

“Well, yeah. Fuck knows I don't really want to. I doubt she's enjoying it much.” It sounded difficult and scary just thinking about it, but Harry's expression was a little scary too. Eggsy didn't doubt he meant every word. “But I guess it'll be mine someday anyway. Me and Daisy's.”

“It's something worth considering,” Harry said, turning his attention back to his food, leaving Eggsy free to consider the idea without demanding a response. Eggsy knew he was going to do it though; he could recognise a sensible idea when he saw it, and he wanted something to report back to Harry later. He didn't want to disappoint him, and Harry had seemed so serious.

It wasn't quite what Eggsy had hoped for from this meeting. The world of instagram and exclusive dance clubs was not Harry's, and the age gap between them seemed like a yawning chasm.

And yet he was not uncomfortable, having lunch with Harry, not impatient or bored, just a little bit disappointed, mostly in himself.

“What would you like to do after lunch?” Eggsy asked.

“Shouldn't that be a question for me to ask?”

Eggsy shrugged. “I don't really have any plans. What do you usually do?”

“Go for a run, do a few chores, walk the dog. That sort of thing.”

“You have a dog?” Eggsy brightened at the prospect of learning something more about Harry's life away from his work.

“Mm.” Harry smiled fondly. “He's a terrible dog, doesn't do anything useful but dig up my garden. Are you all right, Eggsy?”

“I could have a dog,” Eggsy said, his eyes widening in delighted realisation. “I really could.”

“Yes, probably.” Harry looked a little puzzled.

“There really wasn't room for pets in our old flat,” Eggsy explained. “And well, a mate of Dean's kept dogs, but they weren't the nice kind. He bred and sold them as guard dogs or fighting dogs; he only kept the mean ones, and drowned the rest. I wouldn't have dared bring another animal around 'em.” More than once acquaintances had unwanted puppies and kittens to give away, and each time Eggsy had broken his own heart by deciding it was a bad idea. “Let's go look at puppies,” Eggsy said.

Harry smiled, something so sweet about it Eggsy stared entranced for a few moments. “That sounds like a lovely idea.”

Since Eggsy didn't need a dog with a certificate of authenticity, they went to an RSPCA shelter.

If Harry hadn't already owned a dog, Eggsy would definitely have bought him one. He kept protesting that he had to keep dog hairs and drool off his clothes, but he addressed these concerns to the dogs themselves, and seemed utterly unbothered when they ignored him.

Eggsy's heart ached to see him so happy and relaxed.

They got down on their knees and presented their hands to be licked and nuzzled and drooled on and Eggsy had never met a puppy he didn't like, which made the prospect of picking just one rather daunting.

He didn't want a dog too large that needed too much exercise, and he didn't want one very highly-strung either, because whatever he picked, he knew Daisy would want to play with it, so it had to be good with small children.

“You could always bring your sister here to help you pick one out,” Harry suggested, lifting his chin out of reach of the tongue of a boisterous young Labrador, who had her paws on the front of Harry's suit jacket, her tail wagging furiously.

“I guess,” Eggsy said, reaching out and patting the Labrador head, because he wasn't allowed to pat Harry. If he brought Daisy along, he knew the dog would be hers, not his. “What kind of dog do you have?” Eggsy asked, expecting an animal like Harry himself; tall and elegant and probably expensive.

“A Yorkshire Terrier,” Harry said. “I can't say I really chose Mister Pickle, I think he chose me.”

“Mister Pickle,” Eggsy said, trying not to sound too disbelieving.

“Yes.”

Eggsy smiled to himself, because it might be a weird as fuck name for a dog, but it was all Harry, and thus absolutely brilliant.

“I hope I'll get to meet him someday,” he said.

“I'm sure you will.”

 

In the end, Eggsy didn't pick a dog that day. He was still getting used to the idea, and he wanted to run it past Michelle first. He went home and worked out in the gym they'd installed in one of the superfluous rooms, and when he'd finished his heart leaped to see that Harry had sent him a photograph.

It was of a Yorkshire Terrier, sitting on a footpath with a lead clipped to its collar and a rather baleful expression.

 _He's jealous because I spent the afternoon dallying with strangers,_ Harry had added.

Eggsy grinned and spent five minutes composing and deleting responses— _if you were my owner i'd be jealous too_ being completely inappropriate—and settled on a string of enthusiastic smilies and a comment along the lines of Mister Pickle (seriously what was with that name) being cute when he's grumpy.

Eggsy honestly didn't expect a response, but he was helping Daisy get dressed after her bath when his phone buzzed again, as he received a second picture of the dog, this time standing over a food dish on a tiled floor and looking much happier, his tongue lolling.

_All is forgiven._

Daisy, presumably reading his expression despite her young age, clamoured to know what Eggsy was looking at and he showed her the picture of the doggie, which gave Eggsy enough reason to reply, _Daisy approves,_ along with a selfie of them both, hoping the thought of entertaining a young child would encourage Harry to send more.

He hadn't received a response by the time he'd put Daisy to bed and gone downstairs to talk to Michelle. It had been worth a try.

Michelle had no objections to Eggsy getting a dog.

“I know how much you wanted one when you were little,” she said. “But we really didn't have room in that flat.”

“I know, Mum,” Eggsy said. “But we've got a huge garden now.”

“Don't get a huge dog,” she cautioned him.

“I won't. I'll get something good with kids.”

“Have you thought about what car you want for your birthday?” Neither of them were really comfortable in the dining room, so they ate dinner in the kitchen, a reheated meal the staff had made earlier.

Eggsy shrugged. “No. It's ages away, anyway.”

“We'll have to have a party,” Michelle said. “You can invite Roxy.”

“I'll invite all my friends,” Eggsy said, stressing the last word slightly. “Mum, can I ask you something?”

“What?” She looked a bit wary.

“Will you let me help you look after our money? I want to learn,” he said. “I can't just spend it.”

“We have an accountant now,” Michelle said. “Lord knows I don't have a clue what to do with it. He seems very smart.”

“Yeah, but like. I want to learn. I'm not sayin' you didn't pick right, but I get nervous when I don't know what's going on, you know?”

Michelle looked like she was going to argue and then she just looked relieved. “Yeah, me too, baby. I did a bit of accounting work before I met your father but I'm so out of date and we have _so much_.” She shrugged helplessly and smiled. “But you're so smart, I'm sure you could handle it. We'll make an appointment, and I'll have him explain it to you. You should get a say in it all anyway, it's your inheritance.”

“Aww Mum, you ain't old or nothing.”

Michelle wasn't deterred. “I'm older than you, love. Thank you, Eggsy, this will be a weight off my mind.” She smiled at him and grasped his hand for a moment.

Eggsy was glad he'd made her happy, but he wasn't really looking forward to meeting their accountant.

 

~~

Harry had been telling the truth about picking and choosing his clients, but only up to a point. Some clients you simply didn't refuse because they knew too many people, and reacted too unpredictably.

Luckily, Richmond Valentine wasn't in the country all that often.

Harry had been working when they'd first met, on the arm of an aging socialite who'd recently been widowed. She'd said firmly that she had no intention of wasting away and had filled her social calender with anything she could conceivably be invited to. One of those events was a tech demonstration, an evening aimed at very wealthy investors. They'd both stood out a little; Harry was the second-oldest person in the room, and his date was the oldest by far.

Valentine had been curious and then delighted by the mere concept of a gentleman for hire. He'd promised Harry would hear from him, but Harry had been genuinely surprised when Valentine's 'people' had actually followed through.

The next time the multibillionaire was in the country, he took Harry skydiving.

Valentine was clearly less interested in experiencing the life of a British gentleman and more interested in experimenting with said gentleman by throwing him out of his comfort zone. So far, Harry thought he'd acquitted himself quite well, but after paragliding, snowboarding, attending a WWE match and visiting a reptile park, Harry rather dreaded seeing Valentine's corporation listed on his calendar.

He'd only just avoided going to the Burning Man festival this year by having a dozen other appointments already lined up.

He had his fingers crossed that Valentine would forget the idea by next year.

Today Valentine was only making a flying visit to England, and with only a couple of hours to spare had taken Harry go-karting, and then on to Valentine's favourite restaurant.

Harry had learned from bitter experience it was better to attend Valentine's appointments with an empty stomach, so by the time Valentine was ordering a cheeseburger with special sauce, even the McDonald's menu was looking appetising.

The go-karting had actually been fun, once he'd got the hang of it, and his traitorous brain suggested Eggsy might enjoy it too.

Valentine was talking on his phone and picking at his 'fries' with his other hand when Harry's own phone rang. Harry glanced at it, saw _Sugar Eggsy_ and excused himself before stepping away to answer it.

“Harry!” Eggsy said in a hushed but urgent tone. “I need your help. What are deferred tax assets?”

“Um, I'm afraid you'll have to give me some context.”

“I don't know what the context is,” Eggsy practically wailed, still trying to keep his voice down. His voice echoed slightly. “What is equity? It's good right?”

“Well, yes. It's the difference between the value of an asset and the costs of the liabilities-”

Eggsy made an unhappy little sound.

“Eggsy, deep breath. Where are you and what's going on?”

“I'm at the accountant's,” Eggsy said. “I've been trying to take notes but it's all doing my head in and I'm hiding in the loo but I can't stay here much longer. Harry, what do I do?”

Harry sighed. “I can't talk long either.” He glanced through the window and saw Valentine had finished his call and started eating his burger. “I'm with a client right now. Eggsy, relax. Ask your accountant to print you out a report, and you can look at it when you're calmer, all right? You don't have to learn everything at once.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Eggsy. This is just to get you started.” Harry could picture him so clearly, determined and worried, and doing his best. It had been foolish to throw him at the deep end like that, to worry him when there was probably nothing to worry about. It had been Harry's own very different experience talking. “There are university degrees for accounting; you can't possibly expect to understand it all. You just need a sense of how much money you have and where it is, and where it's going. Your accountant helps you with that.”

“But you made it sound like he was gonna rip us off.”

“I know, I'm sorry. Trust your instincts, Eggsy; they will serve you better than mine.”

“Right. Thanks, Harry. I'm sorry I disturbed you, it's just Mum's acting like I'm gonna have it all under control and like, she's already sayin' whatever I decide we'll do and I'm just a bit, you know, scared I'll mess up.”

“Are you free tomorrow?” Harry heard himself say, and he heard Eggsy's sharp intake of breath one the other end. “Early.”

“Yeah. Yeah of course, Harry. I'll, make a booking, right?”

Harry hesitated. Too long, as it turned out.

“I gotta go. I'll book. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry. Thank you.”

And he was gone.

Valentine was waiting when Harry went back inside. His burger had gone cold. He assured Valentine that everything was fine, and that the food was as always delicious.

 

~~

The fine weather was never going to last. The next day Harry woke up to grey skies and drizzle, but he wasn't deterred. In fact, he suspected that it might work out in their favour. Eggsy was waiting for him, dark jeans and a hoodie and an umbrella much cheaper than Harry's own. Harry had an old raincoat over his arm, and he was wearing walking boots rather than his usual shoes. Eggsy noticed when he did his usual once-over, Harry could tell, but he didn't mention it.

“Finally getting some use,” he said, gesturing at Harry's umbrella. He looked tired, but he smiled as brightly as always.

“How did the rest of the appointment go?” Harry asked.

Eggsy shrugged, “All right, I guess. I said I didn't want to make any rash decisions and the accountant said our money was invested conservatively, and that we can access it at any time once we've decided what to do with it. We're gonna set up a trust fund for Daisy though, Mum and me agreed on that.”

“That sounds very sensible.”

“It's all so scary, I mean, you'd think we'd have enough money to last forever, but it just drains away if you don't do anything with it. It's weird. But I can't really complain, can I? Loads of people would want to have my problems.”

“That doesn't mean they're not problems,” Harry said. “You want to provide for your family, and you're unprepared for your current situation. Do you like your accountant?”

Eggsy looked a bit startled by the question. “Well, when I said I was worried about it all, he said we were his biggest clients and he was a bit nervous as well. It was a joke, like, but it made me feel better. He said I could take a class if I wanted to know more about finance and stuff, but that a lot of the ones out there were dodgy.” Eggsy nodded. “He's all right.”

“Good.” Harry clapped him on the shoulder, and Eggsy jumped at the contact. “Enough about that. Let's get away from all of this.”

“Yeah? Why are we out here?” He followed Harry's finger as he pointed. “A Jag dealership?”

“You're looking for a car, aren't you? You have to start somewhere. Do you not like Jaguars? We could get something else.”

“No, we can look.”

“You can't just look, Eggsy. You're not going to spend that much money on a car without taking it for a test drive.”

“Are they really gonna let me drive off with one of their cars?”

“Eggsy, you can buy the whole showroom; they will give you as long as you like.”

By now Eggsy had to know Harry had a plan he wasn't yet sharing, but rather than asking about it, Eggsy only inclined his head and told Harry to lead on.

He only raised an eyebrow half an hour later when Harry told him to turn onto the M4. They had acquired, without very much trouble, an F-Type Coupe in a rather horrible shade of orange, although Eggsy seemed to like it very much.

The saleswoman seemed to think Harry was Eggsy's PA, which was much less awkward than a sugar daddy, and was more than happy to waive the fact that test drives usually needed to be booked.

Harry suspected if Eggsy had made buying the car conditional on a blow job she would have got on her knees right then and there.

They drove, leaving London behind, and although Eggsy shot Harry the occasional odd look, he didn't say a word about it, instead commenting on the car. The time Eggsy had paid for ran out, but Harry didn't mention that either.

Eggsy got hungry eventually and they pulled into the services for a pie and a cup of tea.

“Harry, where are we going?” Eggsy asked eventually, as they looked out at the rain-drenched concrete through speckled glass.

“We're looking for the sublime,” Harry said unhelpfully, taking off his glasses to polish the lenses on his handkerchief; this sort of weather always made them fog up. “The sense of being lost in awe. Perspective, Eggsy.”

“Well we ain't gonna find it here.”

“True, we must move on.”

Harry wasn't as certain as he sounded. Eggsy might find his idea an utter letdown and a massive waste of time. It was for that reason, partially, that he was now working off the clock. Eggsy was trusting that he was going somewhere with this, he hoped it would make sense in the end, but if it didn't he couldn't claim to have wasted his money, only his time.

British ramblers were a hardy breed, and a bit of light rain wasn't going to keep them indoors. Thus, when they pulled into the car park at the Dartmoor National Park, there were a handful of other cars, and few people in bright raincoats and sturdy boots and jeans.

“This is an awful day for a hike, Harry,” Eggsy said a bit doubtfully. Then he glanced at Harry's suit. “Anyway, are you sure you're dressed for it?”

“I wasn’t planning on doing any mountain climbing. Come on, a bit of damp isn't going to hurt you or my suit.”

They and the Jag stood out quite a bit, but Harry didn't intend to hang around here long. He'd done his research the night before, and he shrugged on his raincoat before heading off on one of the trails. The rain had mostly stopped for now, although more threatened to fall, so he used his umbrella as a walking stick while Eggsy swung his idly as he strode alongside, still following where Harry led without complaint. Everything smelled damp, and long grasses overhanging the edges of the path were beaded with water.

“Ain't never been to the country much,” Eggsy said quietly.

“We'll have to come back the way we came,” Harry said. “So let me know if you want to turn back.”

“What's at the end of it?” Eggsy asked.

Harry shrugged. “On a day like this one, maybe not much at all if the rain closes in.” He snuck a glance at Eggsy but Eggsy wasn't looking at him, regarding the trees rising above the path ahead with a faint frown.

“It's a bit quiet,” Eggsy said after a while. Harry hadn't seen anyone else on their trail just yet. They were following an old railway line, and they crossed a stone bridge and entered some woodland, the path gently descending as they walked.

“You could always whistle or sing,” Harry said. “But then you wouldn't hear the birds.”

“I doubt many birds would be out in this weather,” Eggsy said. The rain might have stopped, but every time a breeze rustled the trees above them raindrops would run off the leaves and patter down on their heads. Eggsy put his hood up, Harry put his glasses in his breast pocket.

Eggsy was wrong; they did hear birds, although Harry was not enough of a naturalist to do more than guess at what they were.

It started to rain again, and Eggsy stepped under Harry's umbrella rather than open his own, and Harry didn't say a word.

It wasn't a long trail; Harry had made sure of that, but after a brisk start Eggsy started to slow down and look at the forest around them. Harry had spent the odd summer in the country and sometimes went on hiking holidays, but for a city boy like Eggsy the forest was probably a bit unnerving.

They left the forest for more open country, passing a couple of picnic tables looking a bit abandoned in the gloomy weather.

The rain stopped and Harry lowered his umbrella but Eggsy stayed close, his arm brushing Harry's raincoat occasionally. Harry had memorised the map, so he wasn't surprised when they came to the lookout.

A large body of water lay in the valley below them, a bank of white mist hiding the opposite side. The sky was grey and threatening and Harry could see rain on the distant hills. There was a town about here somewhere but either the weather or topography had hidden it entirely, and all they saw was country, as if England was still wild.

“What's that?” Eggsy asked quietly, pointing at the water.

“Burrator Reservoir. The path continues down to the water if you want to get closer.”

“Yeah.” Eggsy didn't start moving off though, instead finding a stone to sit on. Harry leant on his umbrella, as patient as the hills. “It's peaceful innit?”

“I think so. It's good to get away, remind yourself how big the world is. How small your problems are.”

Eggsy glanced at him and smiled, a bit uncertain. “Thanks. Do you come here a lot?”

“No. It's a bit of an effort to get here without a car. But back when I had one, I'd sometimes go on day trips to places like this.”

Eggsy sighed and pushed his hood off his head, his hair sticking up. It made him look young; an unruly schoolboy. Eventually he stood up.

“Let's finish this trail then.”

It was a short, downward walk to the water's edge, although Harry was acutely aware the return trip would be all uphill. Eggsy hunted for stones to skip, but there weren't many that were suitable. Harry suggested all the good ones had probably been tossed already.

It started to rain again, the surface of the reservoir rippling under the impact of raindrops and Eggsy put his own umbrella up as he wandered around turning over rocks and peering at the water.

Harry wasn't too cold in his suit, but the dampness clung to his trousers and curled the ends of his hair. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, he thought it might even be a bit invigorating, but it did make one long for a hot shower and a cup of tea.

But when Eggsy looked at him, some of the tightness had gone from around his eyes and the corners of his mouth were curled upwards. He looked tired still, but more relaxed.

“You know if you'd said where we was going I'd have told you it sounded boring as fuck, especially in this weather. But I like it. It's like it's only us in the whole world.” And that thought didn't seem to bother Eggsy at all. “And it's beautiful.”

Harry was glad Eggsy turned away then, to take in the view of the hillside they'd just traversed. Harry watched the curve of his lips and the line of his throat and could only agree.

“It is,” he said, old and foolish as he was.

 

“We should head back though. Do you think they sell food? I'm starved.”

“I'm sure they do.”

Spurred on by hunger and damp, they retraced their steps. The rain slackened to a fine drizzle that had Eggsy furling his umbrella once they were under the dubious shelter of the trees again.

“It's like Lord of the Rings,” he said, trailing his hand over the mossy bulk of a tree root. “Like a real adventure.”

Eggsy frowned when they returned to the car park. “You know it's a bit dishonest to take a car for a test drive and use it for a day trip.”

“Did she say you had to bring it back by a certain time?”

“Well, no.”

Eggsy checked the time on his phone as they made their way to the lodge. Harry could smell chips frying.

They lunched greasily and in near silence, Eggsy staring out the window.

“Why did you do this, Harry?” Eggsy asked. “You must have known it would take way longer than the two hours I booked. I don't mind, I just-”

“It's an apology, I suppose,” Harry said. “A way of making amends. I fear I caused you needless distress with my advice on your finances. It wasn't my place.”

“Your advice was good, Harry.”

“My way of imparting it was not, and I was projecting my experiences onto you.” May as well tell him. “Tailoring was our family business. Four generations. Only when my father died did I learn how badly it had been managed in the end, and how deeply he'd dug into his own pockets to keep it afloat.”

Eggsy's eyes had gone wide, and he seemed to have forgotten the half eaten chip in his hand.

“I lost the business and almost everything else, except the house. It was not a happy time. I've since forgiven my father; he was ashamed, and fooling himself, but it was not easy. I just wanted you to be careful, not that you should try and manage a multimillion pound financial portfolio by yourself.”

“I'm so sorry,” Eggsy said, his forehead crinkled in sympathy.

Harry shrugged. “That's life. Swings and roundabouts. Sometimes dealing with good fortune takes as much fortitude as dealing with bad. You'll be fine, Eggsy.”

“Yeah, but what about you?”

“I'm doing well. Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Eggsy decided he felt like a bit of a wanker driving a Jaguar but it was probably the least interesting of the discoveries he'd made that day. He'd almost floated home, still feeling wrapped in mist and rain and living things, and the warmth of Harry's arm brushing his and he'd flopped face down on his bed, his feet hanging off the end as he hadn't even bothered to take off his shoes, and grinned into the covers.

Harry hadn't asked him where he wanted to go; Harry had taken him somewhere, shown him a part of himself that wasn't quite professional and Eggsy held it close to his heart, the knowledge that Harry cared about him, had thought deeply about not what he might want, but what he might need, what Harry was able to give him.

It was weird, of course it was, a slightly muddy stroll in the rain, but it was endearing too. And Harry looked so good out in the open, his suit hidden under that rather shabby raincoat, like a farmer—no, a Lord, like something out of those costume dramas Eggsy watched with his mum, stern and noble and his hair curled just so in the rain, and he'd taken off his glasses, too. He looked a bit different without them, softer.

I'm so dumb, Eggsy thought, so very dumb. And so very happy. Harry hadn't even charged for most of it, it was just them, without commerce between them.

The next time he hired Harry, he was going to buy him a new raincoat, Eggsy decided.

Eggsy floated downstairs for dinner, having somewhat reluctantly washed off the last of the mud and rain. Daisy was banging her spoon on the table, despite Michelle telling her to stop. Eggsy swooped down on her and distracted her while Michelle served dinner.

“What have you been up to?” Michelle asked, and Eggsy suspected his good mood was all too obvious.

“I took a Jaguar out for a test drive,” he said. “I dunno though, I don't think it suits me.”

That seemed to satisfy Michelle's curiosity. “Well, you've still got some time to decide. Don't leave it too late; you might not be able to get the colour you want by your birthday otherwise.”

“Yeah, I know.” Eggsy sat down next to Daisy, playing with her fingers so she forgot about the spoon.

“Eggsy.” There was something in Michelle's voice that made him look up. “Ms Robesham is hosting a dinner party, you know her; she works on the committee for the Centre. And we've been invited.” Michelle clearly didn't approve of whatever face Eggsy was pulling. “You don't _have_ go but I'd _like_ to you to go. After what happened at the gala this is a good chance to make amends. And you will behave this time, won't you?”

Eggsy could see despite being offered a choice, he really didn't have one. He heaved a sigh, and nodded.

“Yeah, of course. It's just dinner, right? I'll stuff my face and keep my mouth shut.”

“Good. Is you suit dry cleaned? I'm dropping some dresses off tomorrow so if it's not I'll take it in as well.”

That was that. Eggsy wasn't really looking forward to it, but he didn't panic until the evening itself, when they were at the Robesham's house, standing by the car while Michelle checked her make-up one last time.

Charlie was standing in the doorway, talking to a grey-haired gentleman Eggsy couldn't recall seeing before.

“Shit.”

“Eggsy!”

“Charlie's here,” Eggsy explained, through gritted teeth.

“Well you're not going to let him wind you up, got it?”

“Yeah.” Eggsy dropped his gaze before Charlie noticed them, pretended he hadn't seen, was looking at his mother instead, but he couldn't very well fail to notice Charlie's existence all evening. “Mum, I gotta make a phone call,” Eggsy said, digging out his phone. Michelle was looking rather exasperated but Eggsy turned away, thumbing through his contacts for Harry's number.

“Come on, come on,” Eggsy muttered as it rang. His stomach was tying itself it knots; he hadn't been feeling good about this evening as it was, and now Charlie was going to get another go at him and he couldn't, mustn't retaliate.

Harry picked up.

“Eggsy?”

“Oh thank fuck. I thought you might be out or something.”

“Are you all right, Eggsy?”

“Yeah. No. Help me. We got invited to this stupid fucking dinner party and I didn't realise Charlie was going to be here. He's the guy who insulted Mum last time.”

“I remember.”

“And now I gotta have dinner with him and fuck knows who else and what do I do?” He pressed his phone against his ear, wishing if he did it hard enough he'd just pop right through to Harry. Wherever he was, it couldn't be worse than this.

“You act like a gentleman, Eggsy. Charlie's won the first round; there's nothing you can do about it. But bringing it up after you've apologised is a bit rude. So let him be rude. Don't give in to the temptation to snap back, because eventually you will run out of comebacks and he'll know he's won. If you don't respond in the first place, he can't win.”

“Just ignore him.”

“Only when it's polite to. Don't sit in a corner sulking, make friends with everyone else. The more charming you are, the less charming he will seem by comparison. You are very charming, Eggsy.”

Eggsy felt himself smile, a shiver down his spine. If Harry thought he was charming, who cared about Charlie?

“So, how do I make friends with old rich people?”

“Small talk is a skill like any other. Discussing pets is usually safe; children can be a fraught topic. Hobbies are a good one, but if you're not careful you can find yourself invited to join in some gruesome activity like fox hunting or golf.”

Eggsy chuckled. He knew Harry was trying to cheer him up and he let himself be cheered, Harry's voice reassuring in his ear, warm and calming.

“People love being asked their opinions. Holidays are good; you're thinking of going somewhere, where do they recommend or what would they avoid? That class of people take a lot of holidays and they'll talk your ear off about them. Best of all, no one actually expects you to take their advice.”

“Eggsy.” Michelle was standing in the driveway now, clutching her purse and her shawl and frowning at him.

“Yeah, sorry Mum. I gotta go, Harry. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. Remember; gentleman.”

“Thanks.” He had to go.

“What was that about?” Michelle asked. Eggsy just shook his head. He had to concentrate. Pretend my suit is worth ten thousand pounds, Eggsy told himself, standing up a bit straighter and offering Michelle his arm as they walked to the front door.

They were shown in by what Eggsy assumed was a butler and deposited in front of the hosts, both of whom air kissed Michelle's cheeks. Eggsy watched carefully and repeated the gesture with the lady of the house and shook her husband's hand.

“Thank you for inviting us,” he said.

Michelle said something about the décor and Ms Robesham was self-deprecating, but happy to tell her where she'd found it all. Mr Robesham saw an acquaintance and ambled amiably out of Eggsy's orbit, leaving him at a bit of a loose end.

No. Harry would not be at a loose end. He would wander comfortably and politely. He would introduce himself, he would make friends-

Still silently giving himself a pep talk, Eggsy turned away and came face to face with a smiling Charlie.

“Well, fancy meeting you here, Eggsy.”

I will make Harry proud, Eggsy thought. “Hello Charlie, how are you?”

“Hoping to make it through the evening with dry clothes,” he said.

Wide open. A dozen retorts fought for prominence in Eggsy's mind. A bland smile instead. “I'm sure you will. Mum,” he caught sight of Michelle and made a temporary escape. “Can I get you anything? I saw a girl with a tray earlier.”

“Was that Charlie?” Michelle muttered.

“It's fine, Mum. I was polite.” He'd be polite if it killed him.

Eggsy didn't want to talk about himself, not to these people, who were looking down on him as it was, but they didn't know him and it made sense they'd ask. So he talked about gymnastics, and about Daisy, and his plans to buy a dog, and then he'd turn it back on them.

“Do you have any pets?”

He got a fifteen-minute lecture on the correct sort of breeding for Siamese cats but whoever the lady he was talking to was, she kept Charlie at bay. Oh, Charlie was bored too, but unlike Eggsy he wasn't trying to hide it, and he circled the room, Eggsy his only source of entertainment. Eggsy ignored him; he was concentrating, remembering who people were and what they said.

Too Much Styling Not Enough Hair fancied himself a theatre critic. Strong Perfume told Eggsy to his face it was too late for him to attend the right school, and how sorry she was. Already Drunk But Hiding it Well wanted to give Eggsy financial advice but kept getting mixed up.

And Charlie.

All Charlie got out of him before dinner was that the prawn things were really good, have you tried 'em? And how much Eggsy was looking forward to the meal proper which wasn't a lie in the slightest; he was very tired of introducing himself. He'd made himself at least try and approach everyone in the room with a smile, and he felt like his face was going to crack.

Harry did this for a living, he realised, and was filled with new-found respect for the man; certainly his job had to be fun some of the time but an awful lot of it had to be exactly like this. It was exhausting. Eggsy tried not to collapse too gratefully into his chair when they were finally seated for dinner.

The food was good but not quite as good as Eggsy had been expecting. He complimented it anyway. Unfortunately Charlie was seated close by and he asked if Eggsy would feel more at home with a TV dinner with a kind of knowing chuckle. All good fun, all at your expense, of course, encouraging the others to join in.

Only they weren't Charlie's close friends, and their smiles were muted. Eggsy squashed down the annoyance in his gut and said, “No of course not,” in a slightly puzzled tone before turning his attention somewhere else.

Michelle kept casting bemused glances at him, and Eggsy didn't exactly blame her, but he didn't react. He'd discovered Mr Robesham had been involved in something his wife referred to with rolling eyes as 'the Saga of the Rhododendrons' and she begged him not to go over it again.

Eggsy smiled. Jackpot.

“I'm really curious now.”

What felt like several thousand years and far too many rhododendron stories later, the evening drew to a close. Michelle had ducked off to the loo and Eggsy was waiting for her, holding her shawl, when Charlie finally cornered him.

“What do you want?” Eggsy asked, his mask finally fraying. It didn't matter so much now they were alone; he already knew Charlie didn't like him and didn't really care to try and make him change his mind.

Charlie rocked back on his heels, eyes narrowed, studying Eggsy thoughtfully.

“Someone's been training you,” he said with a disappointed sneer. “Broken you in completely.”

Eggsy's mind flooded with images of collars and leashes and Harry threading his fingers through his hair and telling him what a good boy he was. I wish, Eggsy thought and suddenly he wasn't even annoyed, just tired. Tired of talking to people.

He sighed. “Give it a rest, Charlie.”

Michelle came downstairs and Eggsy offered her her shawl. Charlie watched him with a dubious expression.

“Get off on acting like a valet,” Charlie muttered under his breath.

“It's called being a gentleman, Charlie,” Eggsy said. “Look into it sometime.”

Michelle didn't say anything until they were back in the car. She'd bought herself a BMW in a tasteful shade of midnight blue, which she drove very conservatively, not used to owning a car let alone one of this size.

She didn't say anything until they were well beyond the Robesham's front gate.

“All right, who are you and what have you done with Eggsy?” she asked, the corners of her mouth curling.

Eggsy slouched in the seat, finally letting himself start to relax, and he grinned back. “He stayed at home watching telly like sensible people,” he said. “I got some advice from a friend.”

“Pretty bloody good advice then,” Michelle said. “Since when do you take anyone's advice?”

“Since I didn't want to let you down again.”

“Oh, Eggsy.” She didn't take her eyes off the road, instead reaching out blindly and stroking his arm. “That Charlie is such a prick. I shouldn't have blamed you in the first place. Thank you, love. I know it couldn't have been much fun, but you did great.”

“We ain't going to another one, are we?” Eggsy asked warily. “Not for a little while at least.”

“I bloody well hope not,” Michelle said. “That dessert was horrible. I think it was tapioca. Fit for a nursing home it was.”

“I bet we've got ice cream at home,” Eggsy said. “Step on it, Mum!”

“I will not.”

She was smiling. They both were.

“So am I gonna meet this friend of yours?” Michelle asked, as they sat in front of the telly in their good clothes, Michelle's shoes on the floor and Eggsy's tie draped over the arm of the couch. They were each armed with a spoon, passing the ice cream container between them.

Eggsy took his time answering, digging around for the bit with the most chocolate in it. Take Harry to meet Michelle? Well, she'd probably _like_ Harry; he was very likeable, and would be perfectly polite. But although Michelle seemed to accept that Eggsy was bisexual she didn't hide very well the fact that she hoped he'd settle with a girl in the end, and Eggsy suspected she'd see pretty quickly how fascinating he found Harry and wouldn't approve. Well, how could she? He was older, and male, and a little bit strange, and didn't even have money going for him.

“Maybe,” he said eventually. Someday.

After finishing his second dessert, Eggsy went upstairs to take off his suit, a feeling analogous to getting out of prison after the evening he'd had. He dressed for bed but didn't intend to sleep just yet, flopping on top of the covers with his phone in his hand.

It was a bit late. But it wasn't _that_ late. He stared at Harry's contact number, wondering if Harry was waiting for him to let him know how it went. He hadn't thought about it at the time, too busy panicking, but he'd probably overstepped a line calling Harry like that without warning.

Again.

Maybe Harry didn't mind that much, but he'd probably mind being called if he'd already gone to bed, although Eggsy suspected Harry was the sort of person who turned his phone off when he was asleep.

What would a gentleman do? He'd ask first.

Eggsy sent a text. _Party's over. If you're still up can I call you with a report?_

It was bizarrely formal, but Eggsy couldn't think of anything better and he sent it. Harry must have been waiting for him, surely, because he got a response thirty seconds later.

_You may._

Eggsy grinned and pressed the call button.

“Hello, Eggsy.” He sounded awake at least. Did he normally stay up late, or was he waiting for him to call? Eggsy didn't quite have the guts to ask.

“Hey Harry.” He heaved a sigh. “I'm so glad it's over, but I did what you said. I was the perfect gent.”

“That's good to hear. Did Charlie give you any trouble?”

Eggsy launched into a summary of the evening, eager to let Harry know his advice wasn't wasted.

“And yeah, in the end we came home and ate ice cream, cause that dessert was rubbish.”

“Very well done, Eggsy,” Harry said, and a great burst of warmth flowered in Eggsy's chest at his words. He didn't have to hide his smile on the phone, and so he let himself grin.

“Really?”

“Sounds like a hideous dinner, and you handled it with patience and politeness. Not that I expected anything less of you, of course.”

“Har-ry, it ain't all that,” Eggsy protested, squirming in pleasure, and the smile sliding off his face a little as he realised he was getting hard. That was a bit much, wasn't it? But Harry kept talking, oblivious to Eggsy's quickening breath.

“Nonsense, people like Charlie are drilled in how to behave at those sorts of events when they're children. You had one bad experience and you learned from it. I'm very proud of you.”

Eggsy bit his lip around a sigh that would have been far too breathy otherwise, and pressed the heel of his hand against his erection, feeling ridiculous and guilty, but how pleased he was that Harry was proud of him.

“Yeah?” he said, once he'd managed to speak normally.

“Are you fishing for compliments, Eggsy?” Harry asked, a bit sternly and that was somehow almost as good as the praise, and Eggsy took his hand away before he actually started wanking to Harry's voice because that would be incredibly rude and he wouldn't be able to hide it and Harry would never talk to him again.

“Well you're so good at giving 'em,” Eggsy said. Really good, apparently.

“Be that as it may.”

“Harry.” Eggsy could hear him getting ready to conclude the call. “Before you go, I just want to thank you.”

“You're welcome, Eggsy.”

“No I mean, I want thank you properly.” He couldn't even hear Harry breathing, and he wondered if the line had cut out. He hadn't thought this through, didn't have anything specific but the need to give something back. “Um, a present,” he said. Although if Harry wanted him to get on his knees that would be fine too.

“Eggsy.”

“I know, you're gonna object. It's a surprise though, so you can't tell me you don't need it.” And because he hadn't decided what it was yet. “Will you give me your address, please?”

He could hear Harry sigh in exasperation.

“It's not gonna be something stupid,” Eggsy said. “Not like an elephant or a car or something. Although-”

“No cars! Aren't you supposed to be buying yourself a car?”

“So elephants are okay? I've got heaps of time to get a car my birthday's not till September, anyway.”

“It's August.”

“Is it?” Eggsy sat up a little. “Shit. Okay, well, I'll get on that. And I won't get you a car, promise. Please, Harry?” he put everything he had into it, the verbal equivalent of puppy dog eyes he would have been far too to embarrassed try and use on anyone else.

The next words out of Harry's mouth were his address and Eggsy rolled off the bed onto his knees as he pawed through his bedside table for something to write it down with.

“Thank you,” Eggsy said, scrawling on the back of receipt, still a little surprised he'd got what he asked for.

“Don't make me regret it,” Harry said.

“I won't.” Eggsy slumped on the floor with his back to the bed. He'd run out of things to say. “I should let you go, shouldn't I?”

“It is quite late.”

“Okay, Harry. Thanks again, and goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Eggsy reached up to put his phone on the table and sighed. Have to get him something good, he thought. Some sort of fancy food thing? Harry did seem to like food, but Eggsy didn't feel he knew his preferences yet. Flowers were probably a bit obvious, if he wasn't painfully obvious as it was.

Him and his stupid dick. What _was_ that, he wondered. Harry hadn't been saying anything suggestive, or even saying it in a suggestive way, but the words returned to Eggsy in a warm rush, and there it was again, that spike of heat that accompanied them.

How nice it was, how good, to have Harry praise him. Eggsy had refused to wank over Harry up until now. He'd just recently developed an interest in Mouthy Twink Gags on Daddy's Big Cock and the like, that was all.

He wasn't really fooling himself. He didn't think Harry would make him gag. He'd ask politely, tell him not to strain himself, and Eggsy would anyway, just to see Harry surprised, just to please him, to hear him tell him what a good job he was doing-

Fuck it. He hissed a breath in through his teeth as he shoved his hand down his pants. What difference was it making at this point? He closed his eyes, summoning Harry's voice, as he rubbed himself just loosely to start off with, two fingers over the vein, spreading his legs a little, his knees curled up.

His cock was eager under his hand, slippery already, but he wanted to take his time, now that he'd finally decided to yield to temptation.

He let his head loll back against the bed, breathing through his nose for now, letting Harry's words wash over him. Eventually he dragged his cock out of his pants, the head snagging for a moment on the elastic. He released it and gently squeezed his balls for a while, letting some of the tension that was building up dissipate as he sorted through his fantasies.

He could almost imagine Harry standing there, standing over him, one polished shoe on either side of his hips, still in his suit. Eggsy imagined watching Harry's hands undo his belt, tug down his fly. Imagined his cock, just inches from his lips, the head glistening and Harry stroking slowly.

_And if you're good, you can suck it, Eggsy._

Eggsy wanted to be good. He went back to stroking himself, parted his lips slightly, licking them, tilting his head back in anticipation, sitting up a bit higher, arching closer to where he imagined Harry's cock, just out of reach. Maybe Harry would like him a little desperate, maybe he'd praise him for holding back, staying where he was supposed to.

Eggsy whimpered, and swallowed to work some spit in his mouth but didn't close it, breathing harder now. He moved his hand over the head of his cock, squeezing, his bare toes scrunching in the thick carpet. This was good, this was hopeless, Harry wasn't going to nudge forward between his lips.

Maybe he'd come on him instead, and at that thought Eggsy was pressing his fingers into the base of his cock, trying not to come himself. Fuck, okay. That would do. Harry standing over him, losing it, stroking himself faster, precome dripping onto Eggsy's chin, telling him how good he is for waiting patiently, his hips rocking forward, that beautiful voice growing hoarse and rough.

 

“C'mon,” Eggsy panted, fucking up into his fist, his other hand between his legs, fingers pressing into the skin behind his balls. There was no stopping it now and he came with a quiet gasp, all he'd allow himself although the rest of the household was probably asleep. He worked himself through it, catching the fantasy of come on his lips, licking it off, returning to reality with a sigh.

He opened his eyes to an empty room and hung his head. At this rate Harry's thank you present was going to be a secret apology as well. He struggled awkwardly to his feet, trying not to get anything on the carpet, his pants still around his thighs until he found something to clean up with.

He didn't meet his own eyes in the bathroom mirror when he brushed his teeth.

It was a shame Harry didn't need a second phone, Eggsy thought when he finally crawled into bed and plugged the device in to charge. Harry was the type to make do with technology, not really grasping how fast things became obsolete. He probably made his website on something running Windows 95, Eggsy thought with amusement.

Then his eyes widened, and he snatched up his phone again. Perfect, he thought.

~~

Eggsy knew exactly when Harry got his new laptop, because he actually sent him a picture of it, still in its box and sitting on a wooden table with the comment, _Really, Eggsy?_

Eggsy was at a bar at the time, with Roxy and some of Roxy's school friends, and getting envious looks from every unattached bloke in the room. Harry must have waited until he got home from work before opening Eggsy's present.

“What are you grinning at?” Roxy asked, as Eggsy basked in Harry's text.

“I sent my friend a present,” he said. Thumbing in a response. _You're worth it, Harry!_ “He's bein' shy about it.”

“Some friend,” Roxy commented over the rim of her glass with a sly smile.

“Hey, what does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” Nevertheless she looked like she'd just solved something that had been puzzling her. Too smart by half, Eggsy thought, waiting for Harry to respond.

_Thank you, Eggsy. I'm sure it will be very useful._

Doing the whole sugar daddy thing by phone and mail was much less satisfying than in person, Eggsy thought. He left Harry to investigate his new machine for a few hours and texted him much later, when he was waiting for the girls to decide where to go for dessert.

_How is the new computer? I can help u w/troubleshooting if u want_

_I don't know yet, I'm still reading the manual,_ Harry replied, rather anticlimactically.

“Granddad,” Eggsy muttered, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Harry that; it gave the wrong sort of impression all together.

With Harry's response so underwhelming, Eggsy left him to it. He hadn't forgotten that he still needed to pick a car, and his birthday wasn't so far away after all; the summer was slipping past alarmingly fast.

He decided to make a day of it. He wanted to do this sensibly; he'd always wanted a car, but hadn't expected he'd ever have the resources to pick one from such a range. He'd been prepared to settle for whatever he could get and he didn't want to rush in now and get it wrong. He didn't mind if Harry rolled his eyes at the colour he chose, but he wanted Harry to respect his choice of the car underneath.

Roxy didn't get it. Her car had been a birthday present too, but she hadn't actually picked it out.

“It's not like we can go over the speed limit anyway, so what difference does it make?” she asked.

“Then why aren't you driving a Toyota?” Eggsy had responded and she hadn't had an answer for him. It was a rare victory that Eggsy had savoured, but it did mean she wasn't interested in helping him shop.

So Eggsy went alone. He already knew a bit about cars (had stolen a few in his day) and there was something satisfying about letting drop that he would be paying cash if he decided to buy, which he wouldn't, because his mum wanted to do the honours. After a while he stopped mentioning it however; he got an unhappy squirmy feeling in his stomach from the salespeople when they were too fawning.

He took various cars for test drives, and the day passed in a blur of BMW and Mercedes and Aston Martin. He was told each time that the car would suit him, that it the girls would love it, that it was exciting and Eggsy resisted asking what a middle-aged gentleman might make of it.

He was leaning towards an Aston Martin because he was _weak_ to the whole gentleman spy aesthetic, alright, and he could picture taking Harry in it to some wild corner of Britain and spending the day rambling and the night in some cosy B &B and he might have got a bit carried away, in the end.

His mum called him while he was still standing in the Audi showroom. Michelle sounded slightly harassed, and she asked Eggsy if he could look after Daisy for the evening.

“I don't want her being babysat all the time by a stranger,” she said. “Not while she's still so small.”

Eggsy had been looking forward to going home and vegetating, but he'd never turned down a request to look after his little sister and he wasn't about to start.

So he went home, and made the best of it.

“Stop fussing!” was the first thing Eggsy heard when he entered the house.

Daisy whined something unintelligible in response and Eggsy's heart sank. He knew that tone of voice, and it meant arguments and tears if he wasn't careful.

“Eggsy, is that you?” Michelle called and Eggsy answered the affirmative and went in search of his family.

Michelle was in her bedroom, making last minute adjustments to her make-up. She wasn't dressed for a fancy dinner tonight, in fact Eggsy thought she looked a bit more like her old self, in boots and jeans and a sparkly top. Daisy was sitting on the floor at her feet, clinging to one of her legs, and saying she didn't want to go.

“Daisy, look who's here,” Michelle said, giving Eggsy a tight smile.

“Ello Daisy!” Eggsy said, putting on a smile and stooping down to hug her. “Have you had a good day?”

“Don' wanna go,” Daisy said.

“We're not going anywhere. We're gonna stay home. Promise.”

“She's been fed,” Michelle said when Eggsy looked up.

“You look good, Mum,” Eggsy said, scooping Daisy up.

“I'm already late,” she said, planting a kiss on Eggsy's cheek and the top of Daisy's head. Daisy made a grab for her, or for her earrings, and Michelle pulled away before she could do any damage. “Daisy, stop it. Be good for your brother.”

“Muuuuuuummm,” Daisy pouted.

“It's all right, it's all right. Eggsy's here,” Eggsy said, trying to distract her. Michelle gave him a grateful look and made her escape.

Eggsy soon realised that it wasn't that Daisy didn't want to go out, it was that she didn't want her mother to leave. Judging by the mess in the kitchen, Daisy had not been a good girl today, and he couldn't really blame Michelle for wanting a break. He loved his sister, he really did, but she was so tiring. You couldn't just take a ten minute break when it all got too much; she needed almost constant supervision. He felt a bit bad about leaving the mess for housekeeping, but he knew better than to take his eyes off Daisy. In the mood she was in, she was capable of almost anything.

So he carried her around, and talked to her about the cars he'd tried out, and asked her if she was hungry (no, despite the fact that at least half her dinner appeared to be smeared on the tray of her chair) did she want a story? Did she want to watch TV? Did she want to look at the picture of the doggie again?

She wanted Mummy.

Eggsy sighed. “Yeah, well, Mummy's gone out. It's just Daisy and Eggsy tonight.” He doubted Michelle would be back particularly early, either.

Eggsy put up with about twenty minutes of this before he realised he'd hardly eaten anything that day and he was starving. He ended up cleaning up Daisy's high-chair one handed, with Daisy on his hip, so he'd have somewhere to put her while he made himself something to eat.

Daisy demanded some of his sandwich, even though he warned her she wouldn't like it and then she screwed up her face and got teary-eyed because it had mustard on it.

“I told ya so,” Eggsy said, chomping down on his dinner with exaggerated motions. Sometimes that made her laugh. It didn't this time.

Eventually, Eggsy gave up. He took Daisy up to her room, put on one of her favourite movies and let her do what she liked, which for a long time was just sit and sulk. Eggsy took out his phone, scrolling through endless pictures of his peers out having fun or pretending to at least.

He didn't actually envy them; he hadn't wanted to go out, and the thought of socialising exhausted him after a day of people pretending to be his friend, but it didn't exactly lift his mood either. He ignored everyone trying to contact him save for Roxy, whom he texted to say he was babysitting that night.

He thought about calling Harry, or texting him. It was, technically, his job to raise Eggsy's mood but only when he was being paid to. It wasn't an emergency and he couldn't just take advantage of Harry's politeness. Unless it was more than mere politeness, but Eggsy wasn't game to go gambling on _that_.

Eventually, Daisy got caught up in _Tinkerbell and the Great Fairy Rescue_ and Eggsy watched it too, although he'd seen it a few times already. By the time it ended she was nodding off and Eggsy took her off to brush her teeth and put her in pyjamas before putting her to bed.

He went to the living room and flopped in front of the TV. It was a bit early to go to bed, but the movie had practically put him to sleep as well, so he dozed in front of some cop show, unable to work up enough interest to really follow the plot.

He started awake, nearly falling off the couch, his neck aching, when he heard the front door close. He turned off the television and went to the hall to give Michelle his report, abruptly halting, the words dying in his mouth when he realised she wasn't alone.

Her companion wasn't much older than Eggsy himself, a young man with a broad smile and an outfit and accent that suggested he wasn't any relation of Charlie's at least. They were merry rather than drunk, shushing each other and trying to be quiet.

“Cor, some house,” the young man said, helping Michelle off with her coat so he was polite at least, Eggsy thought, stepping quietly back into the doorway, out of sight. “You don't 'ave a husband, do you?”

Michelle snorted, “Not bloody likely. I'm done with all of that. Now shh.” She laughed into his shoulder, and he put an arm around her, and it was sort of like old times. Eggsy had learned from a young age to trust his instincts when it came to the guys Michelle brought home, and this one didn't make his hackles rise at least.

Still.

He was young.

Then he thought about Harry, who was probably slightly older than Michelle, and felt like he wasn't really in a position to judge. He had pretty people throwing themselves at him, why shouldn't Michelle enjoy the same? It was still strange, an echo of an earlier life, out of place in their big house. He kept out of the way, listening to them going upstairs, feeling weird and nostalgic and unsettled.

He definitely wasn't going to hang around. Daisy tended to sleep pretty soundly now, and if she didn't Michelle would hear her so he didn't feel too bad about checking he had his keys and quietly leaving through the front door.

It was a warm evening, and Eggsy had no idea what he wanted to do with it. In the old days he would have just hung around, at the parks and overpasses and underpasses where he practised parkour with his friends. Hanging around had practically been an art form, but there was nowhere to do that here; if he tried, he'd probably be picked up, noticed in this sort of neighbourhood, and the last thing he wanted was the cops bringing him home, just to make certain he was telling the truth about actually living here.

He'd go somewhere else, then, and hang out there.

It seemed natural to go home, back to familiar territory, see what new graffiti had shown up, the comfort of these old comfortless places, as familiar to him as the old flat. He didn't want to talk to anyone, so he avoided The Black Prince and just ambled. Tangled his fingers in chain-link fencing, hunched his shoulders, walked tough.

He'd _missed_ this place, sort of. He'd been so desperate, felt so trapped here, but it was a home, it was where he was from even if it wasn't who he was any more. He found himself sitting on an overpass, dangling his feet over the concrete edge, closing one eye and then the other, watching the way it made the streetlights jump.

He wondered where he fit in now. Not with Charlie, or even Roxy, not with his old mates. All those lectures at school must have sunk in, because he wondered what he should do with his life, now that he had options. It seemed counter-productive to take a job away from someone who actually needed one, and he didn't think he could stand going back and doing a degree and for what end anyway? He'd been into gymnastics, once, but he was too old for it now.

“Eggsy?”

“Shit.” Eggsy snapped his head up but he'd already recognised the voice. He'd been so caught up in remembering his old haunts that he'd forgotten they weren't exclusively his, and while he'd moved on no one else much had.

Including Dean's little band of miscreants.

“Fancy seeing your ugly mug around here.” They couldn't believe their luck, clearly, to see him again.

Eggsy didn't wait to answer. The drop from the overpass was tempting, but risky. Get it wrong and he'd break a leg, or his neck, so he swung his legs back over the parapet and took off without a backwards glance. The group chased him, as if by instinct and Eggsy mentally scolded himself as he pounded down the footpath. Dumb. Should have been paying more attention.

This wasn't the first time he'd been in this situation, with these exact same people even, but they were really going after him today; no taunts at his heels, just footsteps and heavy breathing, knowing once he got away from them he'd probably be gone for good. Say what they liked about him, Eggsy didn't tend to make the same mistake twice. If they wanted to get any revenge it was now or never.

So Eggsy tucked his elbows in, put his head down, and ran. He still knew the area, but so did his pursuers; it would be harder than losing the cops. His shoes might have cost him a fortune, but they didn't carry him any faster than his old ones had, and he could feel a stitch threatening in his side. He really needed to just get out. He didn't trust any of his old hiding places any more; who knew who used them now?

He rounded a corner, aiming for the busier streets. If he could find a taxi that would be perfect, but even a few more witnesses would make him more comfortable. He was going so fast he didn't have time to pull up before he ran head-first into a large, soft chest. He ducked a big meaty hand, even as he recoiled off, but he'd lost his lead.

Of all the rotten luck. He had no idea who this person was, but he'd clearly picked a side and it wasn't Eggsy's. They were on him. Eggsy tried to jump away, and someone tackled him, and he put his arms up to break his fall as he landed on the concrete.

Fuck.

He knew how this bit went too. Put up a fight, because if you didn't you'd just make them angrier, like it was an insult, but not too much of a fight because if you actually hurt anyone they'd dish out revenge.

So he was all elbows and knees as the grabbed him, grabbed his jacket and he nearly dislocated his arm wiggling out of it; it was a hindrance rather than protection at this point. Someone socked him in the side of the head and he lashed out with his foot in retaliation.

He was lucky, Eggsy thought dimly as someone gave him a shove hard enough to put him on the ground again, that Dean wasn't actually there. He thought himself a bit above roaming around like this, and was probably too old for it besides. But he'd be hearing about this, oh yes, they told him they were going to make sure of that, get their pat on the head.

Eggsy struggled and swore as rough hands held him down. He realised they were stealing his goddamn trainers, and he thrashed about like a landed fish, and got his face mashed into the ground for his trouble, and he felt his lip split.

They discussed the size of Eggsy's feet, arguing over whether the shoes best be sold or kept for themselves. Eggsy just wanted this to be over; they weren't actually going to kill him, that much was clear, despite a few idle threats to do so.

Someone booted him in the ribs and while he was curling up gasping for breath they forced their way into his pockets with rough, unfriendly fingers and took his phone and wallet and told him he didn't belong here no more, that he was one of them rich kids that deserved everything they got if they showed their faces around this neighbourhood. Eggsy had said such words himself, many times.

He set his jaw, breathing through his nose and staring at the ground. It would be okay, he told himself, as long as he didn't cry. That was a very old lesson, and he'd learnt it well. They asked him if he had anything to say for himself and he dutifully told them to go fuck themselves and they rewarded him with a couple more half-hearted kicks, but after all that running and punching they were tiring and were losing interest in him, especially since he wasn't doing anything entertaining.

Eggsy flinched as he felt warm spit land on the back of his head, and then they walked off, examining their stolen loot and laughing. Eggsy lay there for a few moments until he was sure they were moving off, and then he convulsed, scrubbing at the back of his head, grimacing in disgust.

He got to his feet, his head aching and blood dripping from his lip, but he'd suffered worse in his time. He'd have scabs and bruises, but no broken bones, no stitches required, no need to present himself to Emergency at least.

He picked his way carefully with bare feet, wary of broken glass and other dangers as he made his way to The Black Prince. Dean's crew had gone in a different direction, which implied Dean himself wouldn't be there; it would probably be safe enough to beg a phone call for a taxi home.

Home.

Aw, fuck, the last thing he wanted to do was go home in this state. Eggsy plodded on miserably, his ribs aching and he thought he'd jarred a hip as well. The side of his face felt raw and abraded, but the cool night air soothed it a little.

Eggsy approached The Black Prince warily, disappointed but not surprised that there weren't any taxis about. He was ready to flee if necessary, his toes curling in disgust at the knowledge of how much piss and vomit had landed on the ground he was walking on over the years.

He slunk in, knowing he looked like a whipped dog, but feeling too much like one to care. The barkeeper recognised him—everyone recognised him—and said he could use the phone behind the bar with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes when Eggsy asked.

Eggsy thanked him quietly and called a taxi. He elected to wait for it outside, where there were fewer people to observe him. He had nothing to do with his hands but put them in his empty pockets and wait.

He swallowed the sick, hot burn of humiliation in the back of his throat and looked up at a sky devoid of stars. Clouds or light pollution; he couldn't tell. He still had his keys at least, so he'd be able to get in quietly. Shower quietly. Patch himself up quietly.

He wondered if Michelle's new friend had gone home yet, or if he was staying the night. Breakfast even. No, that wasn't likely; too many questions from Daisy now she was old enough to ask them.

Just when he'd settled on his course of action he realised he had no money. He'd have to wake Michelle up to pay for the taxi. Shit. His oyster card had been in his wallet; he couldn't take public transport. Eggsy clenched and unclenched his hands, the abrasions stinging against the inside of his jeans pockets. He couldn't, not with Michelle's new friend probably still there. Dragging her out of bed for this; he'd rather walk.

So when the taxi arrived, Eggsy climbed in the back, and concentrated on accurately remembering Harry's address. He didn't really think about it until they were on their way, the driver cautiously commiserating with Eggsy about his injuries. Eggsy did his best to sound sober and respectable, but really didn't want to talk and they soon lapsed into silence.

It really wasn't fair to Harry to keep relying on him like this, but Eggsy knew Harry was reliable; he'd look after him, pay the taxi driver, trust Eggsy would pay him back (more than pay him back; what could he offer him as thanks this time?)

What if a wife opened the door to him? Or a partner, older than Eggsy, polite like Harry himself was. That would somehow be worse. Eggsy's stomach clenched as he considered the fact that he might not _want_ to know any more about Harry's personal life than he already did. The bubble would burst.

Maybe it would be for the best.

So Eggsy felt a bit of a nervous wreck by the time the taxi was driving up Harry's eminently respectable cul de sac, anticipation and dread making his stomach churn, and the injuries he'd sustained generally dampening his spirits. It was a nice neighbourhood, exactly like Eggsy had imagined; window-boxes full of summer flowers decorating the neighbours' townhouses, the street desperately overparked only with two cars in it; Eggsy could see why Harry didn't bother with a vehicle.

Most of the lights were out, only a few upstairs windows glowing, but to Eggsy's relief the lights were still on at the house at the end. At least he wouldn't be waking him up.

The taxi driver was not very impressed when Eggsy said he had to go and get the money to pay him, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Eggsy apologised about five times before making his way up to Harry's door. No front garden, but he was sure Harry had mentioned his dog digging one up; there had to be one at the back then.

He could feel the taxi driver glaring at his back, so Eggsy couldn't hover uncertainly on Harry's doorstep, as much as he would have liked to for the next ten minutes or so.

He knocked, and waited, and listened to the approaching footsteps, his heart pounding. He held his breath as the door swung open, and released it again when he saw Harry on the other side of it.

“Eggsy?” He couldn't hide his surprise, as his gaze swept over Eggsy's rather sorry appearance.

“'M sorry, but I can't pay the taxi,” Eggsy mumbled, staring at his own bare feet because he found Harry's expression of sympathy a bit too intense and if he looked at it too long he was going to start crying. He hadn't realised how much he'd wanted to see him until he was actually there.

“Right, of course,” Harry leaned out to nod at the taxi driver. “Wait a moment.” He closed the door again, leaving it only slightly ajar, and Eggsy realised why when he returned with his wallet and a little dog at his heels.

“Come in, Eggsy,” he said. “Don't let Mister Pickle out.” Eggsy shuffled in as directed and despite his sore ribs he bent down to pat the dog, let it sniff his fingers. It was wearing a collar and a tag, and the latter did have 'Mister Pickle' stamped on it, along with a phone number. Mister Pickle seemed to sense Eggsy was upset because he crowded in close, licking his fingers and looking up at him with big brown eyes.

Eggsy was weak. He scooped the dog up and cradled it against his chest, desperate for comfort, breathing its animal scent, soaking up its blind sympathy.

“I see you're getting along well,” Harry said when he returned, closing the door behind him as the taxi drove off.

Eggsy looked up, a bit guiltily, but Harry didn't seem to mind. Nevertheless, he put the dog down.

“Um, thanks,” Eggsy said, gingerly getting to his feet again.

“Eggsy, what happened? We need to clean you up.”

“I got mugged, I don't want to talk about it,” he mumbled.

“We should call the police.”

“No!” Eggsy reached out and touched his arm. “It ain't worth it. I was stupid to go there in the first place, I just want to forget it, you know? Please?”

Harry frowned at him for a moment and then relented, “All right, come on. I'll get the first aid kit.”

Harry led him through to a kitchen, and the house wasn't quite what Eggsy had expected. It was a nice house; not large but worth a lot nowadays, but where Eggsy had expected elegant antiques instead was cheap and mostly cheerful furniture, solid and scuffed. The kind of thing you could get in second-hand shops, and none of it matched. Everything had been selected for utility, rather than aesthetics, and the overall impression wasn't bad, but it did put Eggsy a bit in mind of his paternal grandmother's house, before she had to move to a home. It was clean but slightly cluttered, and there were amateurish pictures on the walls, mostly watercolour. Eggsy tried to look for a signature but didn't have time to linger.

The dog trotted along behind them, his collar jingling.

Harry sat Eggsy down at the kitchen table and went to look for the first aid kit. Eggsy was perfectly capable of patching himself up, but he didn't tell Harry that; he came here partly because he wanted to feel looked after, and if Harry's hands on his skin was the only good thing that happened that day, well, he'd take it.

Once Harry had gone upstairs, Eggsy got to his feet and stick his head under the tap at the kitchen sink, scrubbing at the back of his head to get every last trace of spit out of his hair. He washed most of the blood and grit off his face too, wincing as his hand dragged over the broken skin.

When Eggsy lifted his head, he realised he had nothing to dry his hair with, unless he used the tea-towel hanging over the handle of the oven door. Would that be weird?

“Eggsy?”

Harry raised his eyebrows as Eggsy raised his dripping head. Should have thought this through, he realised a bit sheepishly.

“Um.”

“I'll get you a towel,” Harry said, putting a first aid kit on the table, and that was a gentleman for you, Eggsy thought, taking the odd behaviour of guests in his stride without blinking. He felt a bit stupid though, and kept his head over the sink so he wouldn't drip on Harry's kitchen floor.

A minute or two later Eggsy dried his hair and surreptitiously watched Harry from underneath the edge of the towel. He wasn't wearing his suit, well why would he when he's home? But it was strange to see Harry in ordinary clothes; his trousers, the sort of beige that Eggsy associated with high school teachers, were slightly loose in the waist; he probably bought a size too large to accommodate his long legs, and the shirt he was wearing was flattered by being on Harry's body, rather than the other way around. He looked, well, ordinary; not bad, but wouldn't draw any attention down at the shops, not the way he did whenever he went out with Eggsy.

Am I disappointed, Eggsy wondered, as he folded the towel. He wasn't sure until Harry asked him to sit down again, and lift his head so Harry could get a look at his injuries. And Eggsy obeyed because suit or not, this was Harry, and he was kind and firm as Eggsy had expected. Eggsy let Harry do as he wished, apply stinging stuff to his cuts, whatever, he wasn't paying attention to that. He was watching Harry's mouth, his eyes. He could see his beard starting to come through on his chin at this late hour, salt and pepper, and Eggsy was almost close enough to breathe him in, if he could breathe properly, which he couldn't because having Harry this close to him made him feel like a plucked guitar string, vibrating with tension.

 

 Who cared what he was wearing when his fingertips were on Eggsy's chin?

“Is there anywhere else?” Harry asked, and Eggsy blinked stupidly at him. “Are you injured anywhere else?” Harry repeated himself gently.

Eggsy held out his arms, abraded in a couple of spots from his close encounters with the ground.

“Just bruises,” he said. “I'll be okay. I just didn't want to go home,” he admitted.

“It's all right, Eggsy,” Harry said, starting to clean his arms with a cotton bud. It was more effort than Eggsy would have gone to himself, and he breathed in the sharp, medicinal smell of the antiseptic. “You should cancel your credit cards.”

Eggsy sighed. He didn't want to think about all the crap he'd have to replace now. “I'll do it tomorrow,” he said. “It won't make no difference.”

“There, all done.” Harry released Eggsy's wrist like he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding it, and he was a bit startled to find it in his hand. Eggsy had noticed, and he wondered if Harry had been able to feel his pulse. “Now, do you want something to drink? Tea, something stronger?”

“Tea, please,” Eggy said. “With something stronger in it?”

“Don't be disgusting,” Harry said mildly, as he packed up the first aid things and Eggsy smiled, feeling like he could finally relax, that he was home, and he knew that thought should probably worry him but he'd worried enough for one day. I shall enjoy this, he decided, while it lasts.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry put the first aid kit back under the sink in the bathroom, and took advantage of the moment's privacy afforded to him to gently head-butt the wall. He was not in control of this situation at all. He never anticipated Eggsy would see the inside of his house, let alone the shabby clothes he usually wore in it. It was a terrible thing to get hung up on, given Eggsy had been robbed and injured and Harry felt guilty for even worrying about it.

Harry knew he could be quite vain, and it wasn't something to be proud of necessarily, but Eggsy was so gorgeous who could blame him for wanting to show his best side? But Eggsy was here now, it was too late to change anything, and he just had to make the best of it, he supposed.

Harry heard his kettle whistle and he went downstairs to take it off the heat. He'd told Eggsy to make himself at home and the younger man had removed himself to the living room. When Harry glanced in he was sitting on the ratty old couch, his bare feet tucked up underneath him as he leant down to pet Mister Pickles, who was enjoying the attention.

Bare feet. Harry frowned as he started making the tea. Eggsy said he was mugged, but the injuries and the lack of shoes suggested it wasn't a random attack. Harry clenched his fists. When he'd seen Eggsy on his doorstep like that he'd feared the worst, and he was still furious that anyone had dared to lay a hand on him.

Not his place, he reminded himself, Eggsy wasn't his to defend and there was nothing he could do anyway. He forced his hands to unclench and set about making the tea on auto-pilot.

“Here you are,” Harry said, a few minutes later, carrying a mug in one hand and a glass in the other. “Tea, and brandy.” He set them both down on the coffee table. “How you choose to drink them is your business.”

“Ta, Harry.” Eggsy smiled up at him. “I'll pay you back for the taxi and more besides.” His gaze dropped to the couch he was sitting on.

“Don't even think about buying me furniture,” Harry said severely. “You've been more than generous as it is.”

Eggsy shrugged and looked a bit guilty as he went for the brandy first. “You were staying up doing the ironing?” Eggsy asked, and Harry went with the change of subject.

He had indeed been ironing when Eggsy had knocked on his door, and everything was still set up. “I wasn't staying up, I normally go to bed late and sleep in. It's one of the few perks of being self-employed; to choose one's own hours. And I've never really been a morning person.”

Eggsy swallowed half the brandy, looking thoughtful. “Is that why I can never hire you in the mornings? I figured you were just booked up, not having a lie-in.”

“It's not a lie-in if you do it every day,” Harry said, glancing at his unfinished laundry.

“Don't let me stop you,” Eggsy said, his smile fading. “I'm sorry for barging in all unannounced like.” He finished off his brandy. “I'll just drink me tea and get out of your hair.”

Harry sighed. “Don't be ridiculous. There's no rush, Eggsy.”

“I don't wanna inconvenience you.”

“You're not, really,” Harry said. It would be a relief when Eggsy left, but it was nice to have him here too. “Turn on the TV if you want,” he said. “It's not going to bother me.”

He went back to his ironing, and rather than watching television, Eggsy decided to watch him instead. Harry could feel his gaze, even though he kept his eyes down on his work. Some chores he loathed, but ironing wasn't one of them; the smell of clean steam, the gentle hiss whenever he lifted up the iron, the satisfaction of seeing wrinkled cloth become smooth was its own peculiar pleasure. No doubt he'd start to hate if he had to iron for an entire household, but one man's laundry was just enough to be relaxing.

Normally.

Eventually Harry raised his gaze, and as he expected he met Eggsy's eyes. He was holding his mug of tea in both hands, one elbow on the armrest and Mister Pickle dozing on the floor nearby. Despite the bruising and scrapes on his face, Eggsy looked like he belonged, or maybe Harry was imagining it. Why would a twenty-something multimillionaire belong on his creaky old couch?

He realised he'd been staring at him a beat too long, and he looked back down at the ironing board.

“Do you know how to iron, Eggsy?”

“Nah. It's not like I had much call for ironed shirts, and if I did Mum would do it. Now we have housekeeping for that sorta stuff.”

“It's a useful skill, Eggsy.”

Harry was really only making conversation, but Eggsy stirred, putting his mug back down on the table and getting up and padding over.

“You gonna teach me then?” he asked, head cocked to the side, like it was the most natural thing in the world to ask.

“Well. If you like,” Harry said, unable to quite disguise his surprise. There were two shirts left. “I'll demonstrate with this one and you can do the last one, all right?”

Harry went a bit slower than usual, explaining the order in which he ironed various bits, and Eggsy watched attentively. He hung the shirt on the rack and stepped back, indicating to Eggsy that it was his turn.

“These are real nice shirts, bruv,” Eggsy said, handling it a bit gingerly. “I don't want to mess 'em up.”

“I'll stop you if you look like you're going to scorch them.”

Eggsy nodded and got to work. It took about five times as long as it would have taken Harry to do it, but he did a creditable job. He looked a bit calmer too, smiling proudly when Harry said he'd hadn't made any mistakes.

“Well if you've got any more chores that need doin', you just gotta ask,” Eggsy said flippantly, flopping back on the couch. He heaved a sigh and settled down on it, the springs creaking faintly under his weight.

“I'll draw up a list,” Harry said, putting the iron and the board back in their usual places. Eggsy looked like the day was catching up with him, and although Harry only spent two minutes upstairs putting his shirts away, Eggsy was fast asleep when he came back down.

Harry wasn't surprised.

He watched him for a minute or two, his face aching in sympathy as he looked at Eggsy's injuries, and the rest of him just sort of aching. Eggsy had come to him for looking after and Harry could admit to himself that he'd wanted nothing better than to look after him.

He took away Eggsy's empty glass and mug, and crouched down beside him.

“Eggsy,” he said softly. “Eggsy.” He wasn't sure how much bruising was hidden under Eggsy's clothes so he was very circumspect about the way he touched his shoulder. “You can't sleep here.”

Eggsy dragged himself to wakefulness, his eyes slitting open. “Harry.” A fuzzy, crooked smile, and his arms were reaching for him before his gaze cleared a little and he dropped them. “'M sorry, I'll go.”

“That's not what I meant. Come on, you can have the guest room.”

“Oh.” Eggsy relaxed at this and looked like he was going to fall right back to sleep again. “Thanks, Harry. You're the best.”

“I'm afraid you'll have to walk.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eggsy sighed deeply, and Harry stood back while he rolled himself into a sitting position and staggered to his feet.

“I'll get you something to wear,” Harry said, leading Eggsy to the spare bedroom. It was a bit dusty, but the bed was always made, and although Harry did use it for storage, the boxes of old books and records were neatly stacked against the wall out of the way, or in the closet. “The bathroom's down there.”

Eggsy nodded, letting himself be herded around like a sleepwalker or a young child. Harry suspected Eggsy wasn't as out of it as all that, but if Eggsy enjoyed Harry steering him by the elbow, well, Harry had to admit he enjoyed fussing over him a little.

Eggsy woke up a bit when he saw the insect collection on the walls of the bathroom, and Harry could see his forehead wrinkle in puzzlement, but he didn't say anything, closing the door behind him gently while Harry went to unearth something suitable for him to wear.

The set of cotton pyjamas that Harry left on the bed in the spare room didn't look like they'd suit Eggsy at all, in his mind, but it seemed a bit ...intimate to give him more casual clothes, the tshirts Harry slept in were well worn and the boxers—just no. Well, he didn't have to wear them if he didn't want to.

He could sleep naked if he wanted and Harry wouldn't know and wasn't going to think about it.

He thought about it. Mister Pickle was already curled up asleep in his basket when Harry went around securing the ground floor and turning out the lights. In this weather he slept with the window open, and took his chances with burglars.

He met Eggsy coming out of the bathroom, and noted it looked like he'd washed his hair in the sink again, and possibly his feet as well. Harry was curious but sensed Eggsy didn't want him to ask.

“There are clothes on the bed,” Harry said. “I do hope you sleep well.”

“Yeah.” Eggsy looked more awake, and he fiddled with the hem of his shirt. Harry noticed there were spots of blood near the collar, probably having dripped down from his lip which was still swollen. “You too.” He shuffled past him in the hallway, meeting his eyes and then looking away again. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight.”

Harry sensed, once all the lights were off and he and his guest were safely behind their separate closed doors, that he wasn't going to get a lot of sleep. It was a warm night and, despite the open window, not a lot of air was coming through it. Harry unearthed his sleeping clothes from among the rumpled covers on his bed, changed into them and settled down to read instead. He gave up on that when he realised he'd been staring blankly at the same page for five minutes and hadn't absorbed any of it. He turned off the lamp and tried to get comfortable.

After this, Eggsy probably would see him as a father figure, Harry thought, after he let him fuss about him like a nanny. And that was a good thing. He wondered if Eggsy would actually bother hiring him again, now the illusion of the perfect gentleman was gone. It would be fine, Harry decided. It wasn't like he needed Eggsy's money; he was doing perfectly well without it. If Eggsy didn't want to pay for something he now realised wasn't quite real, well, Harry would understand.

But he was going to put on a suit first thing tomorrow anyway, stiffen his spine a little, and attempt to shore up a few of his deficiencies.

~~

Eggsy woke up abruptly, his lip stinging as he accidentally dragged it on the pillow beneath his head. An unfamiliar pillow.

Everything was weird; for a moment he thought he was back in the flat, the mattress beneath him harder than the one in the new house, but it felt unused, and the room had a bare feeling, like a hotel room, but nowhere near as harshly clean; the sheets were soft and worn. Then he remembered he was in Harry's house.

Instantly Eggsy relaxed again, as he mentally reviewed what had happened the night before. He was safe. Harry's pyjamas didn't fit him very well; they were bunched up around his biceps and the sleeves were long enough that they tangled up around his hands, but he'd been so tired none of it had bothered him in the end. Now he lazily moved his limbs, feeling his bruises and sore muscles ache, but in a distant way, almost pleasant.

Nothing here smelled of Harry; everything was soap or slightly dusty, but it was enough to know they were all his things. It made Eggsy feel like he belonged to Harry too. He didn't want to get up. Despite the fact he'd need to piss eventually he wrapped his arms around the pillow and buried his head in it for as long as he could.

It was the smell of bacon that finally had him stumbling out of bed, and making his way first to the bathroom and then downstairs to the kitchen, after rather reluctantly changing back into yesterday's dirty and bloodstained clothes. He felt shabby and out of place, but it didn't seem to bother Mister Pickle, who walked over to greet him as soon as he walked downstairs. I definitely have to get a dog, Eggsy thought as he bent down to pat him.

Eggsy followed his nose into the kitchen, and found the table set for two, and Harry at the stove. He was wearing bespoke clothes this morning, trousers, shirt, and tie, with an apron over the top as he prodded the bacon. It was a slightly odd combination that Eggsy immediately adored; domestic and yet impressive, authoritative but friendly. Eggsy had to resist the urge to just walk up behind him and wrap his arms around him, rest his head between Harry's shoulder blades. If only he'd stayed over under different circumstances.

Harry must have head him talking to the dog, for he glanced over his shoulder as soon as Eggsy entered the room.

“Ah, good morning, Eggsy. Did you sleep well?” He frowned. “It was a bit hot last night.”

“I was so knackered I didn't even notice,” Eggsy said, hovering next to the table until Harry nodded at him to sit down. “This looks elaborate, do you make breakfast like this every morning or am I special?”

“I make it a bit more often than I should, strictly speaking,” Harry said. “But muesli is nothing short of a penance.” Then Harry opened the oven and produced the croissants that had been warming in there and Eggsy doubted somehow that Harry went to this much trouble when he was on his own.

Eggsy offered to make tea but Harry said he was the guest, and he didn't have to do anything, and when Eggsy saw the delicate china tea set Harry served it in he felt a bit relieved he wouldn't have to handle it too much.

“An uninvited guest,” Eggsy reminded him. And reminded himself. “Speaking of which, um, can I borrow some cash for the trip home?”

“Of course you can,” Harry said, sliding a plate overloaded with fried things in front of him. “I think that's everything,” he said, looking over the spread before taking off his apron and sitting down.

Eggsy was grateful for the largesse; his dinner last night had not been substantial, and in all the excitement since then he'd forgotten to be hungry. Now it all came back to him, and he had to force himself to slow down and eat at a more gentlemanly pace rather than shovel his food in the way he wanted to.

Harry didn't interrupt him or make small talk, but Eggsy did catch him watching him sometimes, his expression possibly fond, mostly unreadable. Eggsy wished he knew what Harry was thinking sometimes, did he see him as a nuisance? Or just a lost little boy who needed his scrapes bandaged and some feeding up? There was nothing really cool or alluring about this situation, Eggsy thought. But it was nice to have breakfast with Harry, even if it hadn't been preceded by a night of wild sex. Occasionally Eggsy felt Mister Pickle brush against his leg as the dog went from one of them to the other begging for scraps. He was pretty sure he saw Harry sneak the creature a piece of bacon at one point.

Eggsy's stomach was entirely full, and the teapot nearly empty, when he pushed back his chair.

“Time you were off?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. I gotta cancel my cards and get a new phone and all of that shit.” He had to tell Michelle as well, and he only hoped she hadn't tried to call him yet. She'd have a fit if she called him and Dean answered. It was going to be bad enough when she saw his face.

“Do you want to borrow some shoes?” Harry asked.

“Um. No, it's okay. I'll just be walking up my own garden path. Thanks though. For everything.”

“Of course. I'll get you something for the taxi.”

There was no sign of Michelle's new friend when Eggsy got home. Michelle herself was already up and about, and had been under the impression Eggsy was sleeping in. She wanted to fuss and worry about him when she heard what had happened, but Harry had done a good job patching him up, and other than hugging him and kissing the uninjured side of his face there wasn't much she could do.

Eggsy told her what had happened; she needed to know in case Dean somehow defied the restraining order and contacted her about it. They both agreed to keep the police out of it; they could afford to let the stolen items go, and the disruption that would accompany pursuing the matter wasn't worth the minor service to Justice. He didn't tell her where he'd spent the night, other than he'd gone to a friend's place, and had been well looked after.

So well looked after. Eggsy never imagined that he'd want to be taken care of particularly; it had been a point of pride to him to worry his mother as little as possible, rarely to ask for things, never to _need_ when everyone around him was stretched so thin.

But as he sat down in front of his computer to start the process of dealing with his stolen cards, he reflected on how much he'd appreciated Harry's kindness. Maybe it was a gentleman thing, but Eggsy hadn't felt guilty or obligated; it was as if Harry enjoyed looking after him which was really very satisfying.

He had to pay him back. Eggsy wrote down the amount he owed Harry so he wouldn't forget. He had to thank him properly, too, but it wasn't until Eggsy was going out to buy a new phone that he realised he didn't want to buy Harry things any more. Not in the way he had previously, anyway.

He'd realised that Harry's ancient phone wasn't necessarily a byproduct of generational ignorance of technology; he probably couldn't afford to constantly upgrade, and fancy gadgets or other things for Harry's home would look strange and out of place. Harry would think he was being judged, and that was absolutely the last thing Eggsy wanted to do. There was nothing wrong with Harry's things.

Eggsy did want to get him out of those awful cheap clothes (one way or another) but he knew it would be too presumptuous to try and get him to shop for new ones. That sort of shopping was reserved for intimate relations, not needy clients.

Harry doesn't want a sugar daddy, Eggsy told himself.

A few days later he found himself back in the Apple Store and wondering if they did some sort of loyalty deal.

His new found understanding of Harry's response to his gifts didn't stop him fantasising about what he'd do if he _did_ have that sort of relationship with Harry. If they didn't make jeans that fit his long legs properly, he'd have them made bespoke, get him jackets and shirts and Eggsy wandered around the high streets in a daze, unable to actually buy much even if he'd wanted to, thanks to his lack of plastic. It was almost like old times, wanting things he couldn't have.

It wasn't really the clothes, it was being in a relationship close enough that he could buy them that he wanted.

It was a bit strange, going to Harry's website again. When he only knew Harry in his professional capacity it was almost natural to book him. Now however, he was aware of Harry having an entire life that was his own; somewhat analogous to the odd feeling of seeing a teacher on a weekend at the shops like an ordinary person.

Eggsy had managed to forget that he was buying Harry's time and attention, that he wasn't entitled to it as a friend.

It had taken him a few days to get his cards and things in order, and he'd bought himself some replacement trainers and jacket; a different style, because he didn't want to be reminded what had happened to their predecessors. His face healed up, and Eggsy decided how he was going to thank Harry.

Money did more than buy things. It opened doors, after all.

Eggsy insisted on a cab, and for the second time he travelled to Harry's house, feeling nervous. He was wearing his suit, sans tie, and wishing Harry's claimed fortifying effect would kick in soon. He was more comfortable in it physically, but he still didn't feel like he quite deserved to wear it.

Maybe he shouldn't have said he'd pick him up. Part of him was aware he'd practically organised a date, even though he was still paying for Harry's time, but he didn't know what else to do. The way Harry had treated him when he'd shown up at his door and given him equal parts hope and anxiety.

Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe everything would be strange and awkward now; perhaps he shouldn't have paid. Too late now. And thus his thoughts went round in circles as he smoothed imaginary creases out of his trousers.

And then the cab drove up Harry's street and Harry was waiting for him, standing outside his house, and Eggsy forgot everything else. Harry was wearing a suit Eggsy had never seen before, and he didn't know enough about them to guess what it was made of, or why the cut seemed more modern that Harry's other ones. The suit was black, and Harry had left his outside light on, so as they approached the light behind him rendered him all shape and no detail, just the outline of slender waist and long legs. The fit was so close.

Eggsy managed to close his mouth by the time Harry had arranged himself on the seat beside him, and he realised the cloth wasn't matte black after all, that it took the light and did things with it. Eggsy wondered what it felt like.

“You look really, uh, good,” Eggsy said.

“Why thank you,” Harry said so mildly that Eggsy knew he was gently taking the piss. “I could say the same for you; you're wearing your suit very well.”

“I've been practicin',” Eggsy admitted. “But still, I am way outclassed. You did a great job on that one.”

“Well, your instructions were to wear something nice,” Harry said and oh yes, he was definitely taking the piss, wearing an amused little smirk, and Eggsy couldn't blame him. He'd realised only after he'd made the booking, request and all, that it had been a silly thing to say. If he'd asked Harry to dress down he'd probably _still_ have shown up in a suit.

Although his minor embarrassment was worth the wait if this was what he got to look at all evening in exchange.

Eggsy had done this right, or tried to. He'd gone out a few times, sometimes with Roxy and sometimes with Ryan and Jamal and Jamal's new girlfriend (whose name was actually Samantha and she adored Jamal's family despite the fact she was heir to a shipping empire.) He hadn't said what he was up to; only Roxy had noticed him taking mental notes, but he wanted to find somewhere Harry would like.

And he had.

There was a multimillion dollar view of the river, there was a band playing jazz rather than a DJ, and in Eggsy's humble opinion the food was amazing. The company not so much; it was invite-only, and he hadn't tried to get Ryan and Jamal in as he didn't think they owned anything that didn't break the dress code. It was the sort of place in which small nations were traded in the private rooms, but Eggsy wasn't interested in any of that. He just wanted somewhere Harry might enjoy, that Eggsy could take him because few other people would be let in.

In their dark suits they almost matched.

The building was old; it was an achievement in and of itself that it remained, so close to the city and the river, so small when the space above it could be converted into luxury apartments, an untapped fortune in the air above its modest height.

They were welcomed by beautiful staff, all perfectly groomed, the vetting so subtle it was almost as if they hadn't been judged at all. This place was never crowded; it might disturb the atmosphere to have too many people, and Eggsy was able to find a table with a view.

“Very nice,” Harry said, arranging himself decorously on the stool.

Eggsy shrugged. “It's a bit posh for my taste, but, it's alright to be a bit posh sometimes. Lemmie get you a drink, what would you like?”

Harry considered for a moment. “Do you like Martinis, Eggsy?”

“I don't really know. I've never much tried 'em,” Eggsy said. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, it's fraught, innit? They ask you like, shaken not stirred or whatever, and James Bond says shaken, but I heard that he was wrong about it.”

“I see.”

“So, which is it?” Eggsy asked, because if anyone knew, it would be Harry.

“I'll tell you what,” Harry said. “I'll get this round.”

“But Harry, I'm supposed to-”

“I want to buy you a drink, Eggsy,” Harry said, and this table really was quite small, Eggsy realised, because when they both put their elbows on it he could pick out individual strands of silver in Harry's hair, and he wasn't quite game to meet his eyes. “And I will ruin you for all other Martinis.”

“Alright,” Eggsy said, trying and failing to keep the smile off his face. This had been a wonderful idea, he thought as he watched Harry stride over to the bar. He knew he couldn't be remotely objective about Harry; he couldn't help but see every glance he got as admiring, because who wouldn't like that? And he was rather smug about the fact that it was his table that Harry would be returning to.

Oh yes, he liked being Sugar Eggsy sometimes. He couldn't decide which he liked more, being looked after or doing the looking after himself.

“They do have rather a nice selection,” Harry said when he returned, placing two Martinis on the table. “Now, tell me what you think of that.”

“It's nice,” Eggsy said, a considered sip later.

“I assure you, every other Martini will be a disappointment.”

“Are you gonna tell me the secret then?” Eggsy said, watching Harry's lips on the rim of his glass.

“Of course I am,” Harry said. “I wouldn't condemn you to a life of substandard Martinis. So listen carefully.”

Eggsy leaned in a bit, and it couldn't possibly have been the minuscule amount he'd drunk that made his head feel so light and his stomach so buzzy. They talked, and watched the other patrons, and Eggsy thought about how similar they were; despite appearances neither of them truly belonged here. Harry didn't have the money and Eggsy didn't have the right accent, and yet here they were, intruding on this exclusive little world with no one the wiser.

A secret shared is a wonderful thing indeed for bringing people together, Eggsy thought happily. Harry let Eggsy buy the drinks from then on, and they ate bar snacks for a price that would have bought them a meal almost anywhere else.

Eggsy introduced Harry to the concept of sliders and Harry didn't think much of them. He declared them only marginally easier to eat than a hamburger of proper size, and far less satisfying. Eggsy rolled his eyes and ordered another set because despite these deficiencies they were delicious and Harry didn't actually argue with that. He ate them so carefully that Eggsy felt like a bit of a pig by comparison and when he asked if Harry had practised Harry told him of a client who took him to McDonald’s every time.

Harry maintained some sort of professional confidentiality regarding his other clients, stripping his stories of all identifying elements, but Eggsy didn't mind, as they were still vastly entertaining.

Then Charlie walked in.

Eggsy did a quick double-take to make sure and then lowered his voice, interrupting Harry.

“Charlie's here.”

“The proverbial bad penny,” Harry murmured.

Eggsy just sighed, and resigned himself to waiting for Charlie to leave again so their evening could resume. Of course, he wasn't that lucky, and when he risked a glance in Charlie's direction he was actually walking over to them.

“Eggsy,” Charlie said, although his gaze was mostly on Harry, who'd assumed a relaxed and faintly curious attitude. “Fancy seeing you here. How did you get them to let you in?”

“Through the door, Charlie,” Eggsy replied, trying not to look as tense as he felt.

Charlie was still looking at Harry, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to work out who he was. “You going to introduce us?” he asked.

“This is Harry Hart,” Eggsy said. “Harry, this is Charlie Hesketh.” He pronounced his name with the air of a naturalist spotting some sort of exotic fungus.

“Oh yes,” Harry drawled. “Eggsy's told me all about _you_.” Harry always spoke like he'd gone to a public school, but somehow he'd managed to turn it up to eleven. The Queen might have felt a bit outclassed; he could have read the BBC news during the Blitz. Harry's tone left no doubt as to the kinds of things Eggsy might have told him, and his expression was amused and faintly dismissive. Infuriating, even.

Eggsy bit his lip trying not to smile.

Charlie stuck his hand out and Harry spent a moment too long to be polite deciding whether or not to shake it, extending his own like he was doing him a favour.

“Do you come here often?” Harry asked, so politely it was insolent; enquiring because it was what one did, not because he cared in the slightest for the answer.

Charlie weighed his response, clearly off-balance. “A bit,” he hedged. “Do you?”

“Not really,” Harry said, somehow managing to imply it was the fault of the establishment for not being more interesting to him.

“My uncle comes here a lot,” Charlie said. “Chester King.”

“Does he?”

“I thought you might know him.”

“Hm. I don't think so.” Harry worked so hard to be polite and put people at ease, it was startling when he decided to do the opposite. He looked glacially cold, and Eggsy almost felt sorry for Charlie; if Harry had turned that look on him when they'd first met his knees would have been shaking.

“I should probably see if he's about,” Charlie said, making his escape.

“Bye Charlie,” Eggsy said. As soon as he'd gone Eggsy swatted Harry's arm. “What was that about? You said I had to be polite to him.”

“I did, and you do have to be polite to him. I, on the other hand, am labouring under no such restrictions.”

Eggsy laughed. “He looked like he was going to piss himself.”

“I thought you might enjoy it,” Harry said with a little smile that suggested he had rather enjoyed it too.

“I am,” Eggsy smiled. “I am enjoying everything about this.” He realised he hadn't looked at his phone once since they'd arrived, and he had no idea what time it was or if the time he'd bought had run out. He'd paid for Harry for the evening, but he hadn't seen Harry look at his watch either. We could just go on like this, Eggsy thought, and that would be fine.

“I'm glad, Eggsy,” Harry said, and Eggsy looked at him and realised that Harry might have been a bit uncertain about them too, maybe wondering where they stood since Eggsy had stayed over.

It was heartening, but Eggsy didn't feel quite game to step over any lines just yet. Or maybe he just wasn't quite tipsy enough.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked instead, indicating Harry's near-empty glass.

Charlie hadn't made a dent in their evening after all, the conversation flowed as well as it had before he'd shown up, and Harry did relax somewhat when he was drinking, perfect legs crossed, his elbow on the table as he gestured with his other hand. Eggsy soaked it all in, ignoring the view behind them to watch Harry's face.

And Harry, Harry smiled at him, and Eggsy thought that he might have been worrying over nothing. Everything was just so right when they were together. Maybe tonight he'd try and get himself invited home.

Eventually he had to take a piss, and he excused himself to go to the gents.

Charlie stepped into Eggsy's path so abruptly it had to be an ambush rather than an accident. Eggsy neatly moved around him, but Charlie wouldn't be deterred, falling into step beside him.

“So,” he said. “That's Harry Hart. I have to say he had me fooled.”

“Charlie, what the fuck,” Eggsy said, not bothering to hide his irritation. He wanted a piss, not a pissing contest, and he didn't like Charlie's abrupt attitude change. When Eggsy entered the gents he saw Charlie's reflection in the mirror, and was startled by the sheer smugness of his expression. He'd almost call it delighted, and his heart sank.

“He's an interesting chap, isn't he?” Charlie said. Glancing around as if to make sure they weren't being overheard. “I was quite curious as to who he was.” Eggsy was working out if it was a good idea or not to just ignore Charlie and get his dick out or retreat to one of the stalls when Charlie gave him a look of such faux-sympathy it made his stomach churn. “So I googled him.”

It stopped Eggsy dead. “What?”

“Did you think no one would?” Eggsy had never seen Charlie so pleased with himself, he had his hands in his pockets and he admired himself in the mirror for a moment before looking back at Eggsy, who'd felt his shoulders instinctively go up around his ears. “You can't parade around in a place like this with an elderly gigolo and expect no one would notice.” He rolled his eyes.

“He's not a-”

“Isn't he? I'm afraid if you didn't know, I'm doing you a favour by telling you. I'm not sure which is more embarrassing; not knowing who he is or not caring.”

“Why should I care?” Eggsy rasped, his chest feeling tight, feeling trapped with Charlie's gleaming-eyed smugness.

“So you knew?” Charlie affected surprise. “Maybe you more than knew. Are you _paying_ him? My God, Eggsy.” He had no idea if Charlie's surprise was feigned or not now; his brain seemed to have come to an abrupt halt.

Eggsy's fists bunched at his sides, but either Charlie didn't notice or didn't care; he was laughing, his eyes wide in disbelief. Eggsy tried to freeze his expression into something unreadable, but it felt far too late to try and bluff his way out.

“Wow, well. I suppose I can't blame you, trying to buy a little class. It might even be commendable, if it weren't so hopeless and sad. But you know what, Eggsy? You've been had. Your geriatric rentboy isn't any more of a gent than you are; he's a shopkeeper. A failed one. Owned some little tailoring place that went broke years ago. It's all on the public record.”

The worst part was he couldn't think of anything to say to defend Harry. Technically everything Charlie had found out was sort of true, but it was also so, so wrong. Harry didn't deserve any of this; he was just doing his fucking _job_ , something Charlie could never understand.

Charlie sighed. “I wonder what the rumour mill will say when they get hold of this?”

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” Eggsy said, finding his voice at last.

“Why would I do that?” Charlie said, looking delighted that Eggsy had even asked. “You have absolutely nothing that I could possibly want. So I suppose I may as well be going. I've taken up so much of your time; wouldn't want you to piss yourself.”

With that a parting shot he finally, mercifully left, and Eggsy rested his hands on the carved marble sink and hung his head.

He felt sick, his face hot with humiliation on behalf of them both. He'd got it all wrong, he realised, he'd assumed Harry was a part of the class he served, that he was unassailable merely because he made Eggsy want to get on his knees. It hadn't occurred to him that anyone could look down on Harry.

He didn't care if Charlie looked down on him. He didn't have that kind of pride, but Harry was different.

He took out his phone and checked his notifications, a reflex action in case Charlie had already decided to put his discovery on Facebook. Eggsy didn't follow Charlie anywhere, but their social groups overlapped heavily; one word from him and everyone would know.

Nothing.

Eggsy lifted his head enough to sneak a glance at his own suddenly-haggard reflection. He had to get out of here. He hated this place now.

Despite his desire to leave, he put off leaving the bathroom as long as he could, because Harry was waiting for him. When Eggsy found the nerve to emerge, Harry had turned on his seat to watch the river, and Eggsy gazed at him as he approached, because he couldn't look away.

I can't hire him again, Eggsy thought. Even considering it brought up Charlie's sneering face, and a spike of humiliation in his gut. He hated that he was so weak to it, but at the same time it reinforced what he already knew; he didn't really deserve someone like Harry. All he could do was pay for him.

Harry noticed something was wrong immediately, of course, his forehead creasing in concern when he saw Eggsy's face; Eggsy could only guess how awful he looked.

“Are you alright?” Harry actually stood up, as if prepared to help him into his seat and Eggsy couldn't take this paid-for politeness any more. It was worse that it was real too; Harry was a real gent, even if he sold that realness it still came naturally to him.

It didn't matter. It mattered a lot.

“I'm not feeling so well,” Eggsy muttered, which was true enough. “I think I should probably go home.”

“Yes, of course. I'm sure they can get us a cab.”

Eggsy didn't even look at the charge for their evening when he paid, Harry watching him with a worried look. Eggsy managed to smile at him. “I ain't dying or nothing. Don't worry about it.”

He thought about telling Harry what had happened on the way home, but he couldn't face repeating what Charlie had said about him to his face. What sort of advice could he give anyway? If Charlie decided to tell everyone, there was absolutely nothing Eggsy could do to stop him, or stop everyone talking about them. And telling Harry was tantamount to admitting that Eggsy was ashamed of him. He wasn't ashamed of him, he was just ashamed of having to pay for him, but that was a fine distinction and he didn't know if Harry would believe him.

If Charlie did go public, Harry would probably get a lot more business, he thought. He was just the sort of curiosity people like Charlie's friends, and his own, Eggsy had to admit, would pay for just to get a look at. Everyone would; he could picture it now, the girls giggling over him, the invasive questions. They'd push his boundaries to see what he'd be willing to do, not because they were malicious, exactly, but because they didn't have to care about the people they employed. They didn't have to care about anyone if they didn't want to.

And Harry would be a gentleman about it, but Eggsy couldn't blame him if he secretly decided it was all Eggsy's fault.

And to think, he'd had vague fantasies about introducing Harry to people at some later date, because Eggsy was so proud and pleased with him. He'd been so stupid; wilfully blind, really, to what their relationship really was.

It was with these miserable thoughts that he shared the ride home with Harry. When Harry got out at his own front door, he said he'd had a lovely time, and he hoped Eggsy would feel better soon.

Eggsy thanked him, and said to say hi to Mister Pickle for him, and when Harry said he'd see him again, Eggsy couldn't quite bring himself to agree.

So he wished Harry goodnight instead, and forced himself not to look back as the cab drove off.

Eggsy came home to a dark and quiet house; it was relatively late. There was nothing relevant on his social media feed, but he found himself lurking on Charlie's page, just to make sure. He realised that Charlie didn't have to actually say anything to make him miserable; just the thought that he might was enough.

Eggsy took off his suit and had another shower, although it wasn't really necessary; he'd spent far longer than had been required getting ready for this evening.

He curled up in bed, miserably forcing himself to ignore his phone, and eventually he fell asleep.

Eggsy spent most of the next day working out or watching television; mindless things that he'd hoped would take his mind off Harry and Charlie. There was nothing he could do. He volunteered to take Daisy to her nursery group, or whatever it was, and Michelle lent him her car to do so. The other carers were clearly a bit bemused by Eggsy, but they were welcoming enough, and Daisy seemed to have a good time.

I need to cheer up, Eggsy thought, pushing Daisy on the swings. I'm young and rich and I have a nice family, and good friends, and everything is fine. He still felt bored and lonely, and mostly guilty; Harry would probably wonder what had happened, eventually, when he noticed Eggsy wasn't booking him any more, and the thought made him so sad as he strapped Daisy into her car seat she patted his cheeks and told him not to cry, Eggsy. Don't be sad.

Eggsy went back to the dog shelter. It cheered him up a little, because it is almost impossible to be sad when one is holding puppies, and he talked for some time to the volunteers there. Maybe he'd sign up himself to work here, he thought, and they told him where to find the online form to apply.

In the end he picked one of the squishy-faced pug puppies, partly because the volunteers there assured him that they made excellent companion dogs, and partly because they looked kind of sad and ugly, as well as cute, and it matched how he was feeling. They stumbled around in their enclosure making tiny noises that might one day turn into barks and he picked one of the boys, the liveliest, who kept trying to climb into his lap. He liked initiative.

Eggsy donated a few hundred pounds to the shelter and took the puppy home, along with several pamphlets about how to look after him. By the time he'd arrived home he'd picked out a name, and JB joined the family.

Both Michelle and Daisy were enchanted by the animal, and they cooed over him and petted him. Eggsy had to keep a close eye on Daisy, as he wasn't sure she'd really grasped the difference between the stuffed animals she threw light-heartedly down the stairs and real ones.

He'd always wanted a dog. He flooded his instagram feed with pictures of the new addition, and bought JB a basket and bowl, and even cleaning up after him wasn't a huge price to pay.

Roxy came over to meet the pup in person, and offered to introduce him to her French Poodle to help him learn to socialise with other dogs, and Eggsy suspected, set a good example. Roxy's pet was extremely well trained; Roxy joked that he'd gone to the best schools, after all, but Roxy herself had taken it very seriously. She gave Eggsy lots of advice about establishing dominance and obtaining obedience and Eggsy knew he'd take almost none of it to heart; the instant JB indicated he wanted something, Eggsy had a very hard time denying him. He was resigned to having a spoiled dog, although he had every intention of trying to teach him a few tricks eventually.

He nearly sent Harry pictures a dozen times. He knew Harry loved dogs, and therefore he'd probably love JB. Eggsy still had the pictures of Mister Pickle Harry had sent him on his phone.

“Coward,” he muttered as he deleted the unsent message for the umpteeth time.

Charlie had said nothing. Eggsy doubted he'd forgotten about it, so he'd probably decided it was more entertaining to leave Eggsy in suspense. Or he was saving it up to make the grand reveal in person; enquiring after Harry in public rather than at one remove over the internet, in front of half a dozen mutual friends.

Eggsy found himself going out a bit less; checking Charlie's feed to make sure he wouldn't be anywhere near where he intended to go that night, that sort of thing. This really couldn't go on, and he knew it, but unless he fled the country he couldn't quite see how. Michelle was still tangled up in that charity, and was happily convinced Eggsy had the whole Charlie problem well in hand. She was talking about a committee for some sort of Christmas fund-raiser, although it was still only August.

It wasn't to be August for much longer, however, and Michelle was determined that Eggsy's twenty-fifth birthday was going to make up for the past twenty-four. She'd finally managed to get Eggsy to specify what car he wanted (along with the extras; it was distressingly easy to all but double the price of even very pricey cars, and thus he'd been fairly restrained.)

They'd hold the party at their house, she decided, now they finally had a lovely house worth showing off. Michelle hadn't been very enthusiastic about the idea of hosting dinner parties and the like, but a proper party was right up her alley, and she set about organising it with far more enthusiasm than Eggsy thought was really warranted.

But she was having a good time, and he had to admit he was looking forward to it a bit. He was reasonably generous with the guest list; obviously Charlie and his closest friends wouldn't be going, but everyone already knew they were feuding so that was hardly a surprise. Eggsy didn't particularly want to snub anyone else, however, and Roxy and Ryan and Jamal had permission to bring whoever else they wanted; Eggsy trusted them.

He'd half expected Michelle to invite some of her new acquaintances as well, but she told him it was a party for young people and she didn't want the committee ladies cramping their style. Eggsy took this to mean she didn't want them cramping _her_ style, and he was glad to see she was comfortable enough to let her hair down a little.

The plan was for Daisy to spend the night with the nanny, and for a bit extra she said she was happy to look after JB as well, as Eggsy was a bit worried the noise might disturb him. The whole thing was a decent distraction, all in all, and it gave him something else to do rather than wonder what Harry was up to.

There was about a week to go, and Eggsy had _not_ been counting the thirteen days since he'd last seen Harry, when Michelle asked him a question over breakfast.

“Would you like to meet someone, Eggsy?”

They both knew what this question meant. It was always the same.

Eggsy smiled. “New boyfriend, Mum?”

“Well.” She toyed with her coffee mug. “I'm not sure yet. I mean, he hasn't met Daisy or anything. I don't want to move fast, but I thought, you know, we could have lunch or something. See what you thought.”

Eggsy understood, or thought he did. Michelle didn't want to make another mistake like Dean again. And if this guy was the same one Eggsy had seen the night he ended up at Harry's she was probably a bit worried about how he'd react to someone so young.

“Of course,” Eggsy said. “Whenever you like.” He wasn't going to feel jealous of his mum, he told himself. That would be ridiculous.

When they were introduced Jason shook Eggsy's hand firmly enough, but there was wariness in his eyes. Well, good, Eggsy thought. They hadn't gone anywhere fancy for lunch; just a sandwich place. Eggsy had done this sort of thing quite a few times before, although when he was younger his place had been to play nice, regardless of what he thought.

No longer.

“He's a bit of all right, Mum. Nice work,” he said with a wink, and Michelle scoffed and told him not to be cheeky, but Eggsy was watching Jason's reactions instead. He would never let himself be closeted in his own home ever again. Jason, to his credit, looked a bit surprised but only responded with a sheepish 'thanks,' and Eggsy took it as a good sign.

It turned out that Jason was slightly younger than he looked, and a graduate of the charity Michelle had joined. That might have worried Eggsy a little, because Michelle had always had a weakness for slightly broken men she thought she could fix, but Jason seemed like he'd mended himself beforehand. He was going to university now, albeit a few years behind his peers, and he'd met Michelle when he'd come back to speak at one of the charity meetings to give feedback as one of their success stories.

The other committee members are not going to approve of this, Eggsy thought as he watched Michelle smile at her new friend.

Good for her, he decided. He didn't want his mother to turn into one of them; the Unwins were their own people, and who cared what everyone else thought as long as they were happy?

And then he realised he was being somewhat hypocritical, given the kind of knots he'd been tying himself in for nearly two weeks now. What an odd thought; Jason and Harry meeting in their kitchen one morning, or the four of them going out and confusing the wait staff as to who was sitting with who.

How did I let myself get so tangled up, Eggsy thought. I could just delete my instagram account if I wanted; I could decide to never speak to any of those people ever again, and would my life be that much poorer for it?

Not if he had Harry. Oh, he'd been stupid.

Eggsy took a deep breath, and it felt like the clouds that had gathered over his life were finally starting to lift.

Michelle and Jason were talking about music while Eggsy had been frowning out the window having revelations. It was just small talk, but it flowed easily between them, and while Eggsy doubted Jason was going to be a great love of Michelle's life, he was alright. Eggsy could have met him in a pub with his mates and made friends, and that, honestly, was more than enough.

“Hey,” he said, leaning forward into the conversation again. “I've got an idea. Do you want to come to my birthday party next week? You don't have to bring anythin'.”

Michelle's eyebrows went up and then she smiled at him, reaching out and squeezing his hand, and he knew he'd said the right thing.

“Well, yeah.” Jason just looked relieved, and Eggsy supposed he'd had far less experience in these sorts of lunches than Eggsy had. “That sounds really cool. Hey, Happy Birthday, man.”

“Cheers,” Eggsy said.

When they got home Michelle hugged Eggsy fiercely.

“Thank you, love,” she said.

“He seems nice,” Eggsy said. “You deserve someone nice.”

“Thought you might think I was a bit old for 'im,” Michelle admitted.

“Nah. I don't care about that stuff. As long as he's legal,” Eggsy joked.

Then Eggsy went upstairs, and visited Harry's website for what he hoped was the last time, just to see if he was booked this afternoon. He wasn't, and that was good enough for Eggsy and he put on his suit. If Harry turned out not to be home, he'd wait until he was. JB stumbled out of his basket while Eggsy was getting dressed and after a moment's hesitation he went and fetched the dog's lead.

“You can come too,” he said.

He was aware he might not get the answer he wanted, but he only had himself to blame if he didn't ask.

He carried JB down the stairs, the pug tucked under his arm. Michelle raised her eyebrows at him.

“Where are you off to?” she asked. Mid-afternoon was an odd time to suit up, after all.

“I'm going to invite someone to my party,” Eggsy said. “In person.” He expected Michelle could read his nerves and excitement off his face.

“Boy someone or girl someone?”

“Boy someone,” Eggsy said firmly, feeling all swirly and nervous, but happier than he had in days.

“Well, he's not likely to say no if you bring JB along. Who could say no to that face?” Michelle said, patting JB's head and kissing Eggsy's cheek. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Mum.”


	5. Chapter 5

Harry hadn't failed to notice the sudden lack of Eggsy in his life. It had taken a while; longer than he would have liked to admit, for him to stop expecting to see Eggsy's name in his calendar.

Clearly, Eggsy had been more upset than unwell that night in the bar, but Harry hadn't realised, and even if he had politeness would have forbade him from pressing the issue too hard. Something had happened then, and Harry had no idea what, although he was confident it wasn't anything he'd said or done. Whatever it was, it had happened while Eggsy was out of his sight.

By the time Harry had resigned himself to the fact that Eggsy was no longer interested in contacting him, it was a bit late for Harry himself to reach out. Besides, a gentleman knew when he wasn't wanted; it was rude to demand someone's attention when they had so obviously withdrawn it.

But he missed Eggsy. He worked on his new laptop, and took photos with his new phone, and berated himself for moping about it, but the truth was Eggsy had forced him to realise how lonely he was. He saw plenty of people, his business did as well as it always had, but Eggsy had never really been like any of the other clients. He'd never treated Harry as an employee, and always gave the impression that he considered himself lucky to have Harry's time and attention, despite the amount he paid for it.

It had made Harry feel lucky too, to have someone so warm and earnest in his life, even for a little while.

So he threw himself into distracting things. Exercised harder, did all the chores he'd been putting off, and because he couldn't help himself, continued working on a little side project in his workroom, because it was basically finished and once it was done he could put it away somewhere rather than seeing it every time he went in.

This particular afternoon saw his attempts at home improvement stretch to the garden. He was on his hands and knees in the sun, sweating through the tshirt he was wearing, the knees of his old jeans grass-stained and dirty as he dug out weeds. Mister Pickle had thought the whole thing was tremendously interesting at first, and had been determined to join in, but the old dog eventually got sick of being pushed away and snapped at for his attempts to dig up the few remaining flowers and had flopped on the grass to watch instead.

Harry was surveying his progress when Mister Pickle pricked up his ears and determinedly got to his feet before trotting back inside. It was only when he barked that Harry paid him any attention; he wasn't much of a barker, after all.

“What is it?” Harry called, and then he heard the knocking on the front door, loud enough to suggest it wasn't the first time. Harry cursed and wiped his dirty hands on his jeans; he never remembered to wear gardening gloves. He hurried through the house to find Mister Pickle nosing at the front door, tail wagging with uncharacteristic excitement.

“All right, get back.” Harry gently moved him out of the way with his foot, and opened the door, half expecting some sort of door-to-door butcher, given Mister Pickle's enthusiasm.

Eggsy was standing on the other side, wearing his suit and with a puppy under his arm, the latter of which explained Mister Pickle's excitement. They stared at each other, Harry still holding his dog back with his foot so he wouldn't run out, Eggsy looking up and down at Harry's outfit with wide eyes and the puppy squirming excitedly, making little huffing noises.

“Um. Please come in,” Harry said, and Eggsy slipped inside. “I was just doing a bit of gardening,” he explained, hoping to excuse his dirty and sweaty appearance.

“It's a good look on you,” Eggsy said faintly, staring at Harry's chest and then snapping his eyes back up to Harrys' face.

Oh. Well, that was all right then.

“So, to whom do I have the pleasure?” Harry asked and Eggsy looked utterly lost for a moment until he realised he was referring to the puppy.

“This is JB. He's still not used to walking on a lead so I had to carry him. It was either that or drag him.” Eggsy smiled, and how Harry had missed that smile. Maybe things were all right again.

Harry let the puppy smell his fingers before gently rubbing its fuzzy head.

“How marvellous,” he said, because all dogs were, really, and Eggsy's smile grew wider and he handed the dog over, letting Harry hold the creature. It was quite an adorable little thing, although it seemed more interested in the other dog than the people holding it.

“He's had his shots so it's okay for him to meet other dogs now,” Eggsy said. Mister Pickle gazed up at them hopefully and barked with excitement when Harry knelt down to introduce the dogs, JB practically jumping out of his hands to the floor.

“You've certainly livened him up,” Harry said, as the terrier circled the smaller dog. JB stumbled around after him and both men watched the dogs proudly for a few moments. Then Eggsy seemed to remember why he was here in the first place and straightened up, tugging on his jacket a little and facing Harry square on.

“So, um, I'm sorry for not being around much,” he began.

“It's perfectly fine,” Harry said automatically.

“Well, anyway, I uh, wanted to invite you to my birthday party,” Eggsy said. “And I mean properly invite, not pay for you to come. I don't want to be your client any more, Harry. And I won't be either way, so, you know, it's up to you if we can still hang out.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, and clearly he'd had to work himself up to this.

And perhaps it had been for the best that he'd taken so long to do it, because Harry might have demurred once, something about professional ties and what was appropriate, but now he knew what life was like without his young friend and all of that seemed quaint and irrelevant compared to the reality of the young man in front of him, nervous and hopeful and he'd put on a suit just to invite him to a party.

He really was one of a kind, Harry thought; endlessly full of surprises. In the end, it was an easy decision.

“I'd love to go,” Harry said, and Eggsy beamed. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“It's on the ninth, at our house. I'll text you the address and everything.”

“I have something for you,” Harry said, the words out of his mouth before he had time to consider them. “An early birthday present.” He could feel the metaphorical ground under his feet shifting; just where was this going?

“Really?” Eggsy looked almost comically eager, his eyes wide. “I mean.” He remembered his manners. “You didn't have to.”

“I know. But I knew your birthday was coming up and well.” He didn't have an explanation, if he was honest, but part of it was trying to repay Eggsy for all the things he'd given him. “Let me wash up first, I'm filthy.”

“All right.” Eggsy scooped up JB again. “He's um, not really housetrained yet.”

“Perhaps he should spend some time in the garden then,” Harry said. “Mister Pickle has sampled every plant there at some time or another and it's done him no harm, so I'm quite sure he'll be safe.”

He showed Eggsy to the back garden, Mister Pickle at their heels, and Eggsy regarded Harry's efforts at weeding with bemusement.

“You don't garden often then?” he said, letting JB down on the grass.

“I'm not very motivated,” Harry confessed. He left Eggsy watching the dogs and went upstairs to scrub the dirt from under his fingernails and change his shirt for one with buttons. Normally he would have changed out of his jeans as well; they really weren't fit for much else than gardening, but Eggsy seemed to like them. Harry supposed some people paid a lot of money for this level of wear and tear.

“There's life in the old dog yet,” Harry observed when he returned. Eggsy was sitting in one of the outdoor chairs while Mister Pickle actually managed to bounce a bit around JB. I should have socialised him more often, Harry thought; he hadn't been this energetic in years.

“They look like they're gonna be good friends,” Eggsy said happily.

“Mister Pickle sets a terrible example, I'm afraid.”

“Like his master?” Eggsy asked cheekily.

“I don't know what you mean,” Harry said loftily.

“I don't either, really,” Eggsy said, getting to his feet. “You've always set a good example to me.”

They looked at each other a bit awkwardly for a moment.

“Come on,” Harry said. “I want to show you something.”

Harry's workroom was where he made his suits. It was not a tidy room; bolts of cloth in the corners, a large dressmaking table covered in bits and pieces, a sewing machine on the end; it was all that was left of his previous professional life, crammed into a fairly small space. Eggsy looked about with delighted curiosity and Harry led him over to a dummy of a male torso, which was wearing a double-breasted waistcoat, almost finished.

Harry had not been able to find a use for this particular material, and it had been sitting in his room for years, too nice to be gotten rid of, or used as lining, but far too flashy for Harry himself to consider wearing any other way, even if he could have convinced himself he could get away with that particular shade of green.

But Eggsy, with his youth and preference for bright clothes, would be able to pull it off magnificently.

“You made this for me?” Eggsy said in a small voice as he stood in front of it.

“Well, it won't fit you perfectly yet. I had to guess your measurements, but I always was quite good at it. It'll be ready by your birthday for certain.”

Eggsy reached out and touched the lapel gently before drawing his hand back. Harry watched his face for a while, and then did what he'd wanted to do ever since the first day they'd met, and offered to dress him.

“May I?” he asked, holding up his hands over Eggsy's shoulders and when Eggsy nodded he helped him off with his jacket. Eggsy looked a bit dazed as Harry stepped around him to lay the jacket aside, and took the waistcoat off the dummy.

He slid it on around Eggsy's shoulders, smoothing it into place, already making mental notes as to what needed altering. But, as he'd said, he had a pretty good eye, and it was a fairly good fit nevertheless. Eggsy didn't seem inclined to do it himself, barely breathing, let alone moving, so Harry buttoned the waistcoat up for him, stepped aside to admire his work and allow Eggsy to look at himself in the mirror.

“What do you think?” Harry asked.

Eggsy smoothed his hands down his sides, staring at his reflection and then to Harry's surprise he turned and hugged him fiercely, pinning his upper arms to his sides as he pressed his face to Harry's chest.

“I'm so sorry, Harry!”

“Eggsy? What on earth is the matter?” Harry asked, wondering for one awful moment if he hated it. He brought his arms up around Eggsy's shoulders. Eggsy's breath was a hot wash against his chest, and Harry could feel the fine patterns on the waistcoat's fabric under his fingers.

“I was avoiding you because Charlie found out who you were,” he said to one of Harry's buttons. “And I was such a coward, and all this time you were making me this.” He squeezed Harry harder, as if he could convey his contrition by an act of sheer strength and Harry wheezed somewhat under the pressure. “I'm horrible.”

So that was it. That Charlie was a nasty piece of work, and Harry could only guess at what he's said to Eggsy. Sweet Eggsy, who seemed to think the world of him, and had been so upset. But Harry couldn't help but feel slightly hurt too, that Eggsy had almost given up on him, but judging by his reaction now, it hadn't been an easy thing to do.

“I forgive you, Eggsy,” Harry said, and hugged him back. He was all tense muscle for a moment, and then Harry felt him relax a bit.

“Wot?” Eggsy lifted his face abruptly and stared at him.

“I forgive you. It's all right. Of course I wondered what had happened, if perhaps I'd upset you in some way, but I didn't try and contact you either. No one is blameless.”

“Well.” Eggsy released him cautiously, hopefully. “Alright. If you're sure.”

“So, do you like the vest?” Harry asked as Eggsy stepped away again, and stared at himself in the mirror.

“It's gorgeous, Harry. I don't know why you thought you gotta ask. No one's ever given me something like this.”

“Well, it does need a few adjustments,” Harry murmured modestly, and went to get his pins.

 

~~

Eggsy was at a bit of a loose end for a good proportion of his birthday. Michelle was busy overseeing the delivery of his car, and the arrival of the caterers and decorators and Eggsy sat down with Daisy to keep her occupied and wondered what sort of chaos Michelle would cause should either of them ever get married.

Daisy said she wanted to go to the party, and Eggsy suggested they hold a tea party for just the two of them first and did his best to tire her out playing games, so she'd go without fuss later.

Eggsy wanted to see his new car, but Michelle told him not to peek, despite the fact that he knew exactly what it was. He had to admit, he was pretty excited about it.

He was also excited about Harry.

Harry had finished his waistcoat two days prior, and it was now hanging up in Eggsy's closet, waiting to make its debut at the party. Michelle had been very impressed when she'd seen it, and was now very much looking forward to meeting 'your new boy,' as she'd put it.

Eggsy had decided not to worry about it. Jason had done him a favour by pre-emptively neutralising any arguments Michelle might have made about how old Harry was. As for Charlie, Eggsy hadn't heard anything, and it still nagged at him a little, but less so now he wasn't going to pay for Harry's time.

Eggsy had learned his lesson; tonight he was going to say something to Harry, define their relationship one way or another, and every time he thought about it he felt like striding around the room to try and work off some nervous energy. Harry liked him. How exactly Harry liked him he wasn't sure, but he'd smelled so good when Eggsy had hugged him, it was only sheer guilt over Charlie that had stopped him from getting visibly turned on.

Eventually Daisy and JB were packed off to the babysitters, the caterers had finished setting up, and the back garden was decorated with strings of hanging lights. Michelle had declared that this wasn't going to be the Queen's garden party, and there were nothing fancy or hard to eat on the menu, just mounds of pastries and pizza and fried chicken wings, and Eggsy could smell them all cooking and was relieved JB had left; it would have driven him mad.

Eggsy hadn't been planning on dressing up, but Harry's present demanded something a bit better than jeans, so he put on trousers and a proper shirt, although he left his jacket and his tie in the closet, and a few buttons undone. He ruffled his hair artfully, and stared at himself in the mirror; he could do this. He looked a bit like he was hosting a variety show, but also rather dashing, he hoped anyway.

Roxy showed up a bit early and insisted on giving Eggsy a cap, despite the fact that he'd told everyone not to bring presents. And despite the fact that it sort of clashed with the rest of his outfit, he wore it.

“It was so you, Eggsy, I couldn't resist getting it when I saw it.”

She recognised his waistcoat as bespoke instantly, and guessed it was a present, and Eggsy hoped Harry would get here soon just to sate everyone's curiosity and get it all over with.

He didn't, of course. Harry Hart was always late, and Eggsy was resigned to it, as the guests started to arrive and Eggsy went out to greet them.

By the time dusk had fallen, their garden was full of friends and acquaintances drinking and eating, and Eggsy was pleased to see they hadn't split up into groups of his old friends and new ones. It was probably only a temporary truce brought on by the free booze and novelty of it all, and the fact that most of the wealthy kids had been obliged to leave their envy-inducing cars at home, since they'd decided to hold most of the party outside, leaving little room for parking.

It gave everything a festival air, enhanced by the music. Michelle hadn't hired the DJ; Eggsy had found her through one of his parkour friends and she was living up to his promises so far. Eggsy bounced around, grinning for selfies and accepting congratulations on his birthday, and getting stuck in to the food.

“Chips,” Valorous was saying, as she waved around a little paper cup full of the same. “How many times have I gone to one of these parties and wished I had some proper bloody chips; kale is not chips, not ever.” The caterers had a deep fryer and everything, and were making them fresh in batches and people were queuing up for them. “Your mum did a great job with this. Where is she? I have to tell her she's a genius.”

“I think I saw her near the house earlier,” Eggsy said, looking around obligingly and then he forgot about it entirely as he spotted Harry walking out onto the lawn. “Excuse me, I gotta-”

He was wearing that dark suit again, but in deference to Eggsy's request to not be too formal he'd left his tie at home, and as Eggsy approached he tried not to stare too hard at the dip at the base of Harry's throat between his collarbones as the crowd fell away from his perception, his attention narrowed down to the person he'd been waiting for.

He stared at his dimples instead as Harry smiled widely at him, spotting him halfway across the lawn and Eggsy realised this was the difference between Harry on the clock and Harry as a friend; the smile was breathtaking.

“Eggsy! Happy Birthday.” He stretched out his hand and Eggsy stepped into it to give him a one-armed hug. It was nothing more, and he didn't let it last too long; after clinging to him the day he'd shown him the waistcoat Eggsy had felt a bit self-concious about it, but he was so happy to see him.

“You're late,” Eggsy said. “I knew you would be.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Harry asked.

Eggsy rolled his eyes and changed the subject. “Did you see the car out the front?”

“I did. It's very nice, and I commend you on your restraint regarding the colour.”

“Well, British green's traditional, isn't it?” Eggsy shrugged. “And I was afraid if I got somethin' orange you wouldn't let me drive you anywhere in it.” He had plans for that, but he was keeping them to himself for now.

“I see.”

“Eggsy?” And there was Michelle. Here we go, Eggsy thought.

“Mum, may I introduce Harry Hart, a good friend of mine,” Eggsy said as Harry stepped forward to greet her.

He was perfectly polite, and Michelle didn't say anything embarrassing like 'if you break Eggsy's heart I'll kill you' (which had definitely been on the cards) and when Harry took his leave to go and get a drink, Michelle stood beside her son and watched him go with a thoughtful expression.

“Well he's a bit of alright,” she said, quoting Eggsy himself. “Nice work.”

“It ain't like that,” Eggsy mumbled and Michelle looked at him for a long moment before he conceded, “Yet.”

“Well don't let him get away with anythin',” Michelle said.

“Nah, he's a gent.”

Michelle didn't look convinced, but Eggsy knew that as long as she gave Harry a chance it would be fine, because Harry _was_ a gent, and sooner or later it would be obvious to her.

Eggsy told himself he was biding his time and not merely procrastinating as he circled around through the crowd. He found Ryan demonstrating back-flips to a small but appreciative audience that grew larger when some other guys tried to copy his technique. No one broke their neck, and it was all very amusing and some of the guys Eggsy used to do parkour with started showing off in earnest. Eggsy wasn't dressed to join in, but he told himself he really needed to pick it up again, as he was probably out of practice.

Eventually he decided he'd put things off long enough, and went in search of Harry.

Eggsy finished his beer (this was a champagne-free party) and found Harry serving Martinis behind the bar, to the bemusement of both staff and guests, although Eggsy could see he was converting them, as he deftly put the drinks together, keeping up an amusing patter as he did so.

Eggsy noticed the performance was being recorded on a couple of phones. This party was being well-covered by social media; if no one knew who Harry was now, they'd probably have some idea by the end of the evening. Now or never, and all that, he told himself.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Eggsy asked with a smile. “You ain't staff.”

“It's no trouble at all,” Harry said. “It's a public service. There you are.” He handed over the last one and relinquished the spotlight, and the bar, to the bartender. “Is it a bother?” he asked, as they strolled away, Eggsy leading them further into the garden, away from the noise, and Harry following without complaint.

“Nah,” Eggsy said. “I just want you to have fun, you know?”

“Oh, I am. Have no doubt about that. It's been a long time since I've gone to a party like this one.”

“Only you would turn it into a lecture though,” Eggsy pointed out, but he wasn't upset; Harry was Harry, and he wouldn't change a thing about him. “You will be you,” he said softly, gazing up at Harry's face.

“Is that a compliment?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, mostly.” They ducked under a string of lights and Eggsy came to a halt now they were out of sight unless someone went looking. “Harry, can I ask you something?”

“Yes of course.” He had to know, had to suspect, surely, why they were here now Eggsy had dragged them off into the shrubbery. The outside lights filtered through the leaves, like a weird, artificial imitation of sunlight. The bass from the speakers throbbed in the air, but they were facing the other way and Eggsy couldn't hear the music well enough to identify anything but the beat.

Harry had his hands in his pockets, and a look of curiosity and concern on his face.

“I know you already got me a present and all,” Eggsy said. “And I love it, Harry, but you knew that. I just wanted something else as well.” A gentleman asks, Eggsy told himself, swallowing hard as he looked up into Harry's eyes, wondering what he saw when he looked at him. The words were drying up, his courage failing.

“Eggsy?”

“May I have a kiss, please?”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, but Eggsy couldn't quite catch what was in them, the lights reflecting off his glasses. He held his breath and Harry seemed to be doing the same, waiting, deciding. Then Harry stepped forward, and Eggsy exhaled and sucked in another breath sharply as a long arm wound around his waist, Harry's hand coming to rest flat on the small of his back.

“On one condition,” Harry said. “You take this awful thing off.” He plucked Eggsy's cap off his head, and before Eggsy could object, he held it up to shield their faces from prying eyes as he leaned down and pressed his lips to Eggsy's.

Eggsy knew he'd only asked for one, so he had to make sure Harry would want more, and he made a soft, pleased sound as he draped his arms around Harry's neck. He opened his mouth to Harry's lips, going up on his toes slightly, pressing up into him. He finally had his fingers on Harry's suit but it didn't really register because he had his hands on _Harry_ , his knees weakening as Harry finally accepted his invitation. He tasted faintly of gin, and Eggsy could feel the hard rim of his glasses against his cheek as he tilted his head.

He let himself arch, the hand on the small of his back pulling him in close against the hard, warm length of Harry's body, Harry bending him back slightly. He was almost off-balance, and he loved it, Harry's arm holding him steady, his calves tensed keeping him up on his toes. He could bend back further, if Harry wanted him to, but Harry seemed content to have him where he was.

This couldn't just be one kiss. Surely by now it had to count for two, ten, thousands; Eggsy pushed his tongue up against Harry's and got a bit of teeth for his trouble and he couldn't stop himself smiling. Harry kissed like it was a game, an important game that required all his concentration, and Eggsy knew he'd be good at it, had always had faith, and he did his best to keep up.

Harry eventually broke the kiss, but he didn't go far, his breath against Eggsy's tingling lips, his expression slightly shocked and perhaps tinged with regret, as he seemed to realise what he'd done.

“Eggsy,” he said softly. “I don't quite know what to say.” His gaze was quartering Eggsy's face, trying to drink in every blink and breath.

“Say you'll do it again?” Eggsy suggested. “And again and again,” he was leaning up, lips parting, but Harry forestalled him.

“I don't know if I can give you what you want,” Harry said, a bit desperate and Eggsy realised with a dark thrill that it cost Harry to hold back. “I don't even know what you want, I-”

“If you say anything about 'old' I shall be very cross,” Eggsy said, although given how breathless he sounded he suspected he wasn't terribly convincing.

“Shabby then,” Harry said, a bit ruefully.

“A little, around the edges,” Eggsy said. “And I like it. I like you. You make me feel safe, and that I could do anything at the same time. And you're gorgeous; I want you and always have, and can you shut me up with an answer before I make even more of a fool of myself?”

“I'd rather not; it's very flattering,” Harry said and he was smiling. When Eggsy leaned up again to kiss him, Harry didn't pull away.

“So that's a yes,” Eggsy said, when he could speak again. He finally dropped his heels back onto the ground and straightened up, but he didn't let go, and neither did Harry.

“What was the question?” Harry asked.

“Be my boyfriend or something, you git.” Eggsy scowled.

“When you put it so elegantly, how can I say no?” Harry murmured and he put the cap back on Eggsy's head, although Eggsy was obliged to adjust it and pouted at him. Harry relented, his expression softening. “I think it should be rather obvious by now,” he ran his fingers down the lapel of Eggsy's waistcoat. “That I'm unreasonably fond of you. I missed you, when you were absent—it's fine, Eggsy,” he forestalled him when Eggsy prepared to apologise again. “We often don't know what we have until we miss it. And if this is what you want, then, whatever I have to offer you are welcome to.”

Eggsy wasn't sure what to say and he ducked his head to hide under his cap. Trust Harry to say all the sort of things that made him flustered.

“Can I take our picture?” Eggsy asked. “I have two of your dog, and one of your laptop, but none of you. And if you're okay with it, I want to be first with the news before Charlie gets his version out. I know it's kind of fast, I guess, but-”

“I understand, and, to be honest, I think people are going to take pictures and draw their own conclusions anyway,” Harry said.

Eggsy touched his own lips. “Is it obvious?” he asked, feeling maybe a bit pleased by the idea.

“A little.” Harry looked slightly smug. He didn't look terribly ruffled at all, his glasses and hair still in place, but there was a light in his eyes and a flush on his cheeks that was unfamiliar.

Eggsy took out his phone and slung an arm over Harry's shoulders, obliging him to bend down slightly for the camera. He didn't need to say 'smile;' Harry was already smiling, dimples and all, and Eggsy didn't think he could stop beaming if he tried. He still couldn't quite believe it; his own daring, Harry saying yes, something that seemed impossible only a week ago had just happened, like that. Eggsy stopped gazing at the picture long enough to type in a caption for instagram. He wasn't quite prepared to go public on facebook yet; his mother followed him on that.

_Best birthday ever! meet the new bf. Harry Hart; professional gent_

He showed it to Harry before he posted it, and he only said, “If you're sure, Eggsy.”

“Yeah. Of course I am.” He posted it, and put his phone away again. He leaned in to Harry and sighed; somehow the party seemed less interesting now. He leaned up to kiss him again and Harry obliged, but only for a moment.

“They'll be looking for us,” he said.

“Mm. I know.” Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Let's go and face the music.”

Eggsy was not surprised to receive odd looks and congratulations the instant they reappeared from his friends; no one was very far from their phone after all, and the new s would spread almost as fast as if he'd got out a loud hailer and made an announcement. He wasn't quite prepared for Michelle trying valiantly not to look concerned as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“You move bloody fast, don't you?” she said to Harry, too startled to be quite polite.

“We have been friends for some time-” Harry began, but Eggsy interrupted him.

“Mum! Do you follow my instagram?”

“Of course I do. You never said I couldn't.”

“I didn't even know you had an instagram!” Oh God, he tried to think about what he might have put up there.

“Why wouldn't I?” Michelle asked. “There are some lovely pictures of Daisy-”

“Okay I believe you. Please stop following me.”

“There's no need to get upset, Eggsy.” Michelle rolled her eyes and took out her phone.

“Hello, I'm Roxy.” Roxy rescued them from an increasingly awkward conversation, by holding out her hand to Harry.

“Ah, Eggsy's told me about you,” Harry said, shaking her hand.

“Good things, I hope?”

“The best, I assure you.” When two flawlessly polite people meet, it almost seems rude to interrupt them, Eggsy thought, as Harry and Roxy started making acquaintances of each other.

He'd never really seen Harry in action in a social setting before; until now it had always been the two of them, but having had a taste of it himself, Eggsy was in awe at how well Harry did it. Despite the difference in age between him and almost everyone else in the room, Harry didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable. Everyone wanted to meet him; Eggsy suspected they'd been wondering who he was since he'd shown up, as he tended to draw the eye. And he was gracious, and funny, and self-deprecating, but only to a point and that point was anything that might imply Eggsy's taste was questionable. He was so charming, Eggsy wondered why he'd ever worried about what Charlie had to say; Harry himself was the ultimate rebuttal, and even when people asked him what 'professional gent' meant, Harry explained with pride.

He's going to defend me socially forever, Eggsy realised. He wouldn't let him, of course, not all the time, but it was a good feeling.

“The look on your face,” Roxy said softly, appearing at his side to hand him a drink.

“Is it stupid?” Eggsy asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry.

“No. It's kind of cute.”

At some point, after the cake was produced and everyone sang while Eggsy cut it and slices were distributed on little cardboard plates, Eggsy realised he was tired of sharing Harry with other people. He hadn't gone far, and he looked over at Eggsy every so often, so the next time he did so Eggsy jerked his head in the universal gesture for 'let's go.' The party was now relaxed and raucous enough that no one outside of their immediate conversation partners was paying them any attention. Eggsy was sure he could smell dope from somewhere in the garden and he didn't seek to know what was happening in the darker corners now midnight was past. He'd been startled at first by how many people had casually offered to share hard drugs with him since he'd gone up in the world, but that was the rich for you; they weren't risking anything but a slap on the wrist if they were caught. Eggsy himself was done with that shit, now he had the choice.

The party had colonised most of the ground floor of the house as people had sought places to sit and rest their feet after dancing or overindulging. He met Harry off to one side, near the wall and out of people's way.

“Yes, Eggsy?” He looked slightly uncertain, like he half expected Eggsy would change his mind. Well, Eggsy sort of understood the feeling, as he looked him up and down and tried to convince himself that it was alright to touch.

He swayed into Harry's space, and gazed up at him and it was nice to have his attention, to know he gave it freely and completely because he wanted to, not because he was paid.

“Harry.” He slid his hands around Harry's sides, feeling him breathe underneath this suit; he'd have to peel off, surely, it was such a nice fit. “Take me home?” he asked.

“Eggsy, this is your house,” Harry said, slightly puzzled. “And a lovely house it is too.”

“Take me to your home then. I like it, you know?” He could see Harry brace himself to explain why they couldn't do that and Eggsy felt his confidence crack a little. “It doesn't feel real,” he confessed. “Not any of this, not yet.” Harry reached up and covered one of his hands with this own and Eggsy curled his fingers. “I know, gentleman don't put out on the first date. It's alright.”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Harry cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like a load of rubbish to me.”

“What?” Eggsy's heart kicked a bit harder in his chest as Harry brought his hand to his lips. He wondered if anyone was watching them, as Harry's breath tickled his palm. Harry didn't take his eyes off him.

“Surely this house has an upstairs,” Harry said, his lips brushing Eggsy's skin, and his voice deep and quiet; Eggsy had to strain to hear him over the background noise.

Eggsy licked his lips, and Harry's gaze dipped slightly to follow the movement. “Yeah, my room's upstairs.”

He twisted his hand in Harry's grasp to grab his fingers and pulled him away, down the hall. If anyone saw them it was probably obvious what they were up to, but Eggsy didn't really care.  It wouldn't necessarily be the first time he'd snuck off at a party, although it was a first that it was his own.

Harry was at his heels the entire way up the stairs because Eggsy kept a firm grip on his hand, but when they were on the landing Harry used his captive arm to pull Eggsy back against him, as they came to a halt.

Eggsy let himself be pulled into Harry's embrace, leaning back against Harry and tilting his head back to look at him.

“Hmm?” Please let him not have changed his mind, he thought.

Harry nuzzled the side of his head, his neck, and Eggsy squirmed, trying not to laugh too loudly as Harry's breath tickled him. He arched his back and ground back against Harry and he was murmuring something but Eggsy could feel a vague hard shape against his arse and suddenly there was no room in his trousers for his prick and he was pulling away, dragging Harry by the hand. Whatever he had to say it could wait until they were behind closed doors.

“Why'd you have to stop in the hallway?” he muttered hotly, fumbling with the doorknob and practically falling into his room and flicking on the light.

“As I was saying before you interrupted,” Harry closed the door behind them. “I rather like watching you walk upstairs. Especially in this.” He brushed imaginary dust off the shoulders of Eggsy's waistcoat which, Eggsy now realised, was too short to cover his arse in its tailored, if not bespoke, trousers. “It's some of my finest work, if I do say so myself.”

Eggsy lifted his chin, lips parted, and Harry took the hint and kissed him like someone biting into a ripe peach, careful and firm, gently sucking at his lips for a moment before pulling back before it got too deep. Eggsy could taste traces of chocolate ganache from his cake on his lips.

“From the day I met you I wanted to dress you,” Harry confessed, and Eggsy felt heat bloom in his chest at the praise.

“You can, Harry. As much as you want. 'N then you can undress me too,” Eggsy added.

A cheer from downstairs made Harry turn slightly for a moment. “Another time,” he said decisively, and before Eggsy could protest, Harry's hands were on his arm and was pushing him gently back towards the bed.

It wasn't made. Now he looked around Eggsy realised his room was a bit of a disaster; with looking after Daisy and getting ready himself he'd left clothes and toys strewn about the place. If Harry minded, he didn't say anything; maybe he hadn't noticed, as his gaze had been pretty firmly focused on Eggsy himself. He just steered Eggsy to the bed and Eggsy sat down obediently when he felt the back of his legs touch the mattress.

Harry paused.

“You're very.” He frowned as he searched for the word. “Accommodating. Oh, don't look so worried, it's not bad.” He took Eggsy's face in his hands and bent to kiss his forehead.

“I just want to make you happy,” Eggsy said. “And,” he swallowed, remembering sitting in almost this exact same spot, Harry's simple words of praise going straight to his dick. “When you say I did good, and stuff, uh.”

“You do make me happy, Eggsy,” Harry said. “You don't know how much. You're brave and good hearted.” His touch gentled on Eggsy's face, and he rested his fingertips on his cheeks. “And you're one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever met.”

“Harry,” Eggsy said, squirming, feeling like his blood was evenly divided between his face and his cock, and Harry was looking at him with such affection he could barely breathe.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this all it takes? God, Eggsy.” He looked almost reverent.

And then he got down on his knees.

Eggsy spread his legs,  and Harry settled between them, his hands on Eggsy's knees, and despite the massive tent in Eggsy's trousers just in front of his face, he kept his gaze locked with Eggsy's.

“You make me so proud,” Harry continued, and Eggsy almost wanted him to stop, or to close his ears to it because he was so earnest, looking up at him, had taken Eggsy's ill-articulated desires and run with them. “You're kind, and caring, and I am _honoured_.” A faint smile. “To kneel before you, to touch you.” He started sliding his hands up Eggsy's thighs. “ And you're being so good for me, even though that looks terribly painful.” He grazed a hand over Eggsy's cock, and Eggsy bit his lip and braced himself on his hands. “May I?” Harry asked in a reasonable tone, like he was offering to pour tea, and Eggsy nodded, not quite game to speak.

“Thank you, Eggsy.” Harry's actions gave the lie to his polite words, as he undid the buttons on Eggsy's trousers with more haste than elegance. Harry had told him a few days ago that it was best not to wear a belt with a waistcoat as it made it look bulky in the front and at the time Eggsy had thought vaguely about this sort of scenario, Harry's hands undoing his clothes.

Eggsy lifted his hips when Harry curled his fingers over the waistband of his boxers and he tugged both underwear and trousers down with one movement as far as they could go, which with Eggsy's legs still bracketing Harry's torso, was about halfway down his thighs.

Harry urged him to slide forward a little, so he was only perched on the edge of the bed, his cock bobbing in front of Harry's face.

“And this is lovely, too,” Harry said thickly, curling his fingers around Eggsy's cock, squeezing it a little, as precome pooled in his foreskin. Eggsy could feel Harry's breath for a moment before he leaned back to take off his glasses, fold them, and put them in the inside pocket of his jacket. Eggsy's toes curled in anticipation.

Harry shuffled forward on his knees, and wrapped his arms around Eggsy, his hands on the bare strip of arse below his waistcoat. Eggsy was a bit worried about getting it dirty, but he was pretty sure a gentleman swallowed, even as part of him didn't want to put Harry to such trouble.

The bigger part of him wanted Harry to fucking get on with it, because he was  _aching_ here, and Harry's little preparations had only wound him up further.

Harry smiled at him, a wicked little smirk that told Eggsy it had all been on purpose, and then he opened his mouth and slid Eggsy's cock down his throat.

Eggsy made a kind of gurgling yelp as Harry swallowed him down, right down until his nose was touching the bottom of the waistcoat, and the head of Eggsy's cock was pressed hard against the back of his mouth. He stayed there for a few moments while Eggsy panted with shock, his fingers twisting in the sheets, and then he lifted his head again, his lips shiny around Eggsy's cock until it sprung free entirely, the air chill on his damp skin.

“I am somewhat out of practice,” Harry said, sounding somewhat strained, his eyes slightly watery.

“Don't,” Eggsy said. “Don't hurt yourself.”

Harry just smirked at him and lowered his head again.  He sucked on the head of Eggsy's cock with a noise that wasn't polite at all, and started bobbing his head over it, tonguing the vein on the underside, pushing the pushing the foreskin back with his lips. Sometimes a tooth scraped gently on the shaft, too delicate to be anything but deliberate, and careful, but every time it happened Eggsy had to stop himself thrusting up into Harry's mouth.

Harry's eyes were closed, his forehead wrinkled slightly in concentration. Eggsy put his weight on one arm so he could finally touch Harry's hair, gently stroking it, forcing himself not to mess it up, aware that they'd probably end up downstairs again at some point this evening, and he wasn't prepared to share Harry's sex hair with anyone else.

Harry lifted his head, sucking all the way up, pausing with Eggsy's cock resting against his lower lip, and then he tilted his head and opened one eye, looking up at Eggsy to see how he was doing.

Eggsy wanted to look away but he simply couldn't, his mouth hanging open and a sheen of sweat drying on his forehead. Whatever he looked like, it seemed to please Harry, and he smiled before getting back to work.

Someone turned the music up another notch downstairs, and Eggsy could feel the base humming in his blood,  too slow to be his racing heartbeat . He realised after a little while he was tapping his leg back against the bed with the effort of not moving more. Harry's hands were lax against his skin, not holding him still, and he rocked his hips as much as he dared. Harry didn't seem to mind, regardless,  taking him in a bit deeper.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Eggsy chanted under his breath, taking his hand away from Harry's head because his other arm was getting tired. He'd only lasted this long because Harry kept changing what he did, alternating sucking and licking, slowing down when Eggsy started to shake, but even that couldn't hold off his orgasm forever, or even for another five minutes. It took even Eggsy by surprise; one moment he was panting, staring up at the ceiling as he whispered broken swearwords, his cock throbbing in Harry's mouth and the next he was swearing for real, curling up desperately as his balls tightened.

“No, fuck. Harry-” He gritted his teeth as Harry plunged his head down again, swallowing around his cock and that was it, too much, and he was coming down Harry's throat, his knees tightening against his ribs, seeing stars. He clamped his jaw around a drawn-out groan as Harry swallowed and swallowed again before lifting his head.

Eggsy flopped back on the bed, his chest heaving. He reached for Harry blindly, tugging at him, and Harry obliged, putting his hands on Eggy's knees and making a soft sound of pain as he got off his knees and crawled up onto the bed beside him.

“Are you okay?” Eggsy asked, his voice still thin and breathless.

“Mm.” Harry was flexing his knees and wincing, but he gave Eggsy a reassuring smile when he saw him looking at him. “I'm fine, Eggsy.” His lips were slightly red and swollen and his voice was husky.

He was hard, too, and Eggsy was too blissed out to even be self-concious about staring at the way his cock filled his trousers. He'd learned from experience that without a belt to hide behind, tailored trousers weren't terribly discreet. Harry had a belt, of course, but he didn't seem inclined to tuck himself up under it, instead stretching out next to Eggsy, his legs hanging over the edge, and Eggsy lifted his head so Harry could put an arm around his shoulders. It was probably a nice looking cock, Eggsy thought, reaching out to stroke it languidly through the fabric.

“Mm what would you like me to do?” he asked. It was so hard, poor thing, and Eggsy felt it shift slightly under his hand, hot even through the layers of cloth.

“Later, Eggsy,” Harry said. “There's no need to rush.”

“But I want to,” Eggsy said, blinking his eyes open and focusing on Harry's face.

Harry smiled at him. “I know. And you will, I'm sure, but they'll be wondering what's become of us.”

“I think they'll probably know,” Eggsy pointed out, but he didn't press the issue, partly because he was suddenly feeling very, very tired and content. So he rolled over towards Harry, draping his arm over him, seeking his warmth.

“Darling, you can't go to sleep,” Harry said, and Eggsy felt his hand in his hair, which didn't do anything but soothe him further.

“Just watch me,” Eggsy mumbled.

“I'd love to.” Harry sighed and Eggsy felt his lips on his forehead before he shifted his arm out from underneath Eggsy's head. “But another time.”

Eggsy chuckled as he felt Harry start to dress him, tugging his underwear up, and he didn't fight it, lifting his hips as required, but he didn't help either, as Harry tucked him away and buttoned and zipped him up again.  Harry looked after him with such effortless, if occasionally exasperated, affection, it made him greedy for more of it. But at the same time-

He opened his eyes and rolled himself into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and kissing him on the mouth. Harry was sloppy in kissing him back, in a way Eggsy was familiar with after giving a blowjob; lips slack and tired and tingling.

“You have to let me spoil you now,” Eggsy said. Harry looked a bit wary, and Eggsy shook his head. “Nothing you don't want, I promise. It's just, I'm gonna look after you.”

“Of course, Eggsy.”

He could see Harry didn't quite know what he meant, and truth be told Eggsy wasn't sure either, but when he looked at Harry he felt the same sort of protectiveness he felt for his sister and mother. It was too big to put into words.

Eggsy sighed, and got to his feet.

“Is there a bathroom around here?” Harry asked.

“I've got an en suite,” Eggsy said, forcing his feet to move.

Harry washed his face and apologised for using Eggsy's towel to dry it and Eggsy just shook his head.

They were going downstairs when they met Michelle and Jason sneaking up and Eggsy carefully avoided their eyes and he only hoped Harry was doing the same thing. Clearly it would be better to spend quality time with Harry at his house in future.  One thing he had taken away from the evening was that his mother was very popular; he'd heard nothing but praise for her organising skills, and no one seemed to feel obliged to behave under her supervision.

Feeling rather like a put-upon parent himself, Eggsy wound his way to the through the mess to turn the music down a bit; he didn't like his neighbours particularly but he didn't want to start a feud either. It looked like some people had left, and a fair few more were sleeping or passed out on the grass, although there were still people picking over the food and drinks.

“Eggsy,” Harry joined him on the lawn, where the air was clearer of alcohol fumes. “What are you going to do now?”

“Mm, curl up and go to sleep somewhere probably. Are you going home?”

“I thought I might. It is quite late. You're welcome to come with me,” he said, and Eggsy knew he didn't really want him to. He seemed a bit stilted and thoughtful, and Eggsy supposed he probably wanted a bit of time to process all that had happened.

He's not so hard to understand after all, Eggsy thought. On impulse he hugged him and Harry hugged him back.

“Thank you,” Eggsy said. “For the offer. But I should probably make sure everyone's okay, and keep an eye on stuff, especially since Mum's upstairs.” The caterers had all gone, to be back tomorrow to tidy up. “I guess you'll call a cab? I'd drive you home but I've had too much to drink, I think.”

Eggsy walked him to the front gate, waving at some other guests on their way out. A girl came up and drunkenly hugged them both and Harry wished her a safe trip home.

“Happy Birthday Eggsy!” she shouted as she got into what was probably a chauffeur driven car rather than an Uber, given its size.

“It's been a pretty good birthday,” Eggsy said quietly, as the car purred off. He could hardly believe how much his life had changed in a year.

“Couldn't have happened to a nicer person,” Harry said. “Happy Birthday, Eggsy.”

“I'll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“I owe you something good, don't I?” Eggsy winked.

“I assure you, I'm quite looking forward to it.”


	6. Chapter 6

He'd really done it this time. Harry strode around his house with such an authoritative step Mister Pickle kept looking up hopefully to see if he was about to be taken for a walk. It might not have been such a bad idea, only Harry was expecting a visitor and it wouldn't do to be out when he arrived. Not at all.

He hadn't _planned_ any of this. Lord knew he liked Eggsy more than was probably sensible, and he would have been happy, or so he told himself, to merely flirt with him indefinitely. He should have known things would change when Eggsy stopped being his client. He was prepared to have a serious talk with him sometime about it; they might have been able to go further, if they'd established what exactly they were and weren't first.

A foolish notion, in hindsight, that he could corral Eggsy into some sort of benign corner of his life, safeguard his own heart and ego. But no, they'd jumped in the deep end; the pictures, the party, Eggsy's _mother_ now knew and Harry found himself in a relationship already more serious than most, and yet it was still only a few days old. Everything had been done out of order; only if they'd managed to somehow get married in the process could things have been more arse-about.

It was indisputably a horrible idea, and it was his fault for being so easily seduced the night of the party, but who could blame him? Eggsy in the waistcoat he'd made him, bright and beautiful like some fairytale prince, who scorned the princesses (or other princes) for the avuncular royal advisor. Harry couldn't imagine that particular story having a good ending.

Eggsy would be fine. He was young and life had already treated him so terribly, whatever inadvertent pain Harry might cause him, he'd move on and be happy.

Harry felt so fragile by comparison. He stood at the table, resting his hands on the back of the chair Eggsy had sat in to have breakfast what seemed like a lifetime ago now. Enough selfishness, Harry thought; he had to make the best of it, treat Eggsy the way he deserved for as long as he was permitted to. There was nothing noble about cowering in fear of heartbreak.

And he could take Eggsy to bed. _That_ at least was something he was sure they would both enjoy. It wasn't anywhere near enough to merely get a taste of his pretty cock-

Harry was startled guiltily out of his lustful daydreaming by a knock at the door, and his incipient erection transmuted into a stomachful of butterflies like he was back in school, which was frankly ridiculous for a man of his age. He forced himself to go and answer the door at a reasonable pace, glancing at himself in the hall mirror as he passed.

He'd decided suiting up in his own home was a bit too formal, so he'd restricted himself to tailored trousers and shirt, and had spent more time on his hair than was strictly necessary.

Mister Pickle at his heels, Harry opened the door.

“Hello!” Eggsy said, grinning widely. He had a backpack hanging off one shoulder, and the hideous cap from his birthday party on his head. Harry stepped aside and Eggsy darted in, mindful of Mister Pickle. As he stepped past Harry he rocked up on his toes and snatched a quick kiss, like it was the most natural thing in the world, that the sudden press of warm lips on his own wouldn't make Harry's heart flip in his chest.

“'Ello boy!” He bent down to pat Mister Pickle, who wagged his tail and nosed at Eggsy's hands. “I, um, just bought some spare clothes, you know, in case I stay over,” Eggsy said, still looking at the dog while he spoke. “I'm not moving in yet or anything.”

“That's fine, Eggsy. You're welcome to do as you wish.”

Yet? _Yet?_ (Why would Eggsy want to live here and not at his mother's mansion or a flat of his own?)

“Good.” Eggsy straightened up again, reassured. “So what now? Shall we go upstairs?” He wiggled his eyebrows and Harry fought the urge to say yes and toss him over his shoulder, not least because while his back and knees might manage to take Eggsy's weight, carrying him up a flight of stairs was probably asking a bit much of them.

“I was thinking,” Harry said, looking Eggsy up and down, seeing not his jeans and shirt, but the firm, broad body beneath. “I'd like to get your measurements, if you don't mind.”

He'd taken a few when he was finishing Eggsy's waistcoat, but they'd both been uncertain, Eggsy practically holding his breath whenever Harry touched him, and so he'd taken only what he'd needed.

“You're gonna make me something else?” Eggsy asked, looking gratifyingly pleased by the idea.

“You should have a suit made,” Harry said, dusting his hands across Eggsy's shoulders, and then looking into his eyes. “And I don't want anyone else to have the pleasure of tailoring it for you.”

Eggsy's mouth dropped open slightly, pink and inviting, but Harry merely looked for now.

“Oh,” Eggsy said softly, and then he grinned. “Let's go then. Do I need to take my clothes off?”

“That probably won't be necessary, but if you would be so kind as to remove your shoes,” Harry said as Eggsy slung his bag onto the couch as they went past.

Harry turned on the light in his workroom and unbuttoned his cuffs so he could roll up his sleeves.

“We'll have to take you out to find some suitable material,” Harry said. “None of what I have is quite right, and it will be educational.”

“Mm.” Eggsy said, standing in the middle of the rug in front of the mirror, his hands clasped in front of him, watching Harry rather than his reflection.

It felt natural to go into teaching mode; safe ground for them both, as Harry talked generally about different weights of cloth. He had missed this; he enjoyed making clothes for himself, but there was a special satisfaction in making clothes for someone else. Especially someone who looked as good as Eggsy. He draped the tape measure around his neck, and set out a pad and pencil.

“Now, this shouldn't take long.” He stopped dead when he saw Eggsy's face. He was biting on his lip and his forehead was creased with worry. “Are you all right?” Harry asked.

“Um. Yeah.” Eggsy shifted his weight from one foot to the other like a disobedient schoolboy waiting for rap over the knuckles. “It's just, um, do you think you could, err.” He was looking everywhere but at Harry himself, and it would almost be amusing if his discomfort wasn't so palpable. “Measurethecrotchfirstplease,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” Harry wasn't sure he'd heard what he'd thought he'd heard.

“Can you, you know, do the trouser bit first?” Eggsy asked. He sighed, “Look, once you start using that,” he nodded at the tape still draped over Harry's neck. “I'm definitely gonna get a stiffy and I don't want it to mess up the measurements.” He met his eyes at last, tilting his chin up, daring Harry to laugh at him, and to be fair, Harry did feel like laughing. He also felt like seeing just how accurate Eggsy's prediction was, and thus he schooled his face into an expression of polite amiability.

“Very well, Eggsy. That's no trouble at all.”

He set out his notebook and pencil, and then approached Eggsy with a reassuring smile. And then he got on his knees. Eggsy made a sort of strangled sound, but moved his hands when Harry asked him to.

“I should get on my knees for you sometime,” Eggsy said, while Harry held the tape to the inside of his leg. He was trying to sound cocky. He sounded strained.

Harry hummed absent-mindedly, as if it wasn't affecting him in the slightest, having Eggsy tense and pliant while he touched him only with the odd fingertip to hold the tape in place. “I'm sure you will.”

Knee next. He was looking forward to the one after that; Eggsy's thighs were things of true beauty and Harry had seen them for himself once already, but hadn't had time to truly appreciate them. He'd guessed at their measurements a dozen times, but honestly couldn't help but think there was a bit of wishful thinking on his part.

Not as much as he'd expected, he decided, once he'd slid the tape around Eggsy's leg. Christ, he couldn't wait to get them around his waist. Maybe Eggsy wasn't going to be the only one with a problem by the end of this.

Nevertheless, Harry persisted, working his way up Eggsy's body in the reverse of the usual order. Finally they were standing face to face, as Harry gently wrapped the tape around Eggsy's neck to take the measurement for the collar. Eggsy swallowed; Harry could see his throat bobbing. He was facing straight ahead, his eyes about level with Harry's mouth, but he kept flicking his gaze up and then away again. His breathing was shallow, jaw set, and as predicted his cock was jutting out as far as his jeans would allow. Harry could have leaned forward just a fraction, the width of a breath, and brushed it with his leg.

He didn't, but he did have to read the measurement about three times before he was sure it would stay in his head long enough for him to write it down.

He slid the tape measure off, the fabric whispering against Eggsy's skin.

“And we're done,” he said, whispered almost, his voice almost steady.

Eggsy sagged, exhaling raggedly, and slumped forward against Harry's chest, his hands going to Harry's shoulders. Harry let him collect himself for a few moments, inhaling his scent.

“You were very good, Eggsy,” he said into his ear in a low tone. He felt Eggsy stiffen at his words. “Very well done.” He put his hand on the back of Eggsy's neck, finally letting himself actually touch him and Eggsy straightened up abruptly.

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glittered. “Harry. You—you bastard!”

Harry wasn't expecting it and he stepped back to regain his balance as Eggsy flung his weight against him and kissed him so hard he worried Eggsy would snag his lip on a tooth. As soon as Harry stepped back Eggsy pushed further, filling his arms, his mouth, with urgent warmth, his cock hard against Harry's hip.

Harry's back collided gently with the mirror and Eggsy finally pulled his mouth away.

“Don't try and look innocent,” he said, and Harry doubted he could have looked much less innocent at that moment; his lips were tingling and somehow one of his hands had made its way down to Eggsy's backside. “I know what you're doing. Tryin' to get me all wound up.”

“And you're not going to stand for it?”

“What? No. Don't _stop._ ” He kissed Harry again, more gently this time, no less enthusiastically, and Harry kissed him back, one hand still cupping the back of Eggsy's head, his hat tumbled to the floor, forgotten, along with Harry's measuring tape. They had time to themselves now, and the glass at Harry's back was warmed through by the time Eggsy pulled himself away again, with half-lidded eyes and one last swipe of his tongue across Harry's bottom lip.

“You really are stunning,” Harry said, couldn't help himself. Eggsy might be weak to his compliments, but he was awfully weak to giving them as well. Eggsy smiled, wide and happy and almost post-coital, if Harry didn't know better, if they weren't pressed up against each other close enough to make it painfully obvious it was otherwise.

He nuzzled his face into the crook of Harry's neck and Harry tensed instinctively against it; the skin under there had grown soft and slightly loose over the years, but Eggsy didn't seem to mind at all, mouthing at his neck gently and Harry forced himself to relax and enjoy it.

“Eggsy,” Harry said softly. “Eggsy.”

“Mm.”

“Eggsy you have to move. I really should check on dinner.”

Eggsy sighed, but he did step back, releasing Harry and running his fingers through his hair. “I guess that's fair. I am supposed to be here for dinner, after all.”

“Quite.” Harry tried not to be disappointed by how little argument he'd put up.

 

~~

 

There was beer to go with dinner, rather than wine, because of course there would be, because Harry wouldn't forget Eggsy wasn't very fond of the latter. Dinner itself wasn't anything fancy, just a roast and trimmings, but everything had been made with just that little bit extra effort, and all of it was delicious.

In deference to the effort Harry had clearly gone to with the cooking, Eggsy eased up on the flirting while they ate; food this good deserved their full attention, and instead they talked about other things. Mostly Eggsy did the talking, about JB, about his new car, about how he'd met Charlie at a club and how he'd had nothing to say to Eggsy's grin, about what they should do tomorrow, and Harry bestowed upon him the warmth of his attention, laughed at the funny bits, asked encouraging questions, and was effortlessly gorgeous. It was brilliant.

“Would you like seconds?” Harry asked, after Eggsy had cleaned off his plate. “There's plenty more. I shall be eating roast beef sandwiches for lunch for the rest of the week, I'm sure.” Eggsy was eyeing off the roast and considering when Harry added. “There's blackberry pie for dessert as well.”

“Harry, you didn't have to go to so much trouble,” Eggsy said, giving up on the idea of seconds. He didn't want to stuff himself, not when he hoped there would be more physical activities on the menu later.

“I hope you don't think I made it myself,” Harry said, collecting their plates once Eggsy had pushed his away. “But it's no trouble, not for you.”

Eggsy grinned, resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on the table as he watched Harry take the pie out of the oven, where it had been keeping warm. “You know, these last few days I worried you might be having second thoughts about this,” he said.

Harry paused for a moment, and then went to get ice cream out of the freezer. “I am having second thoughts,” he said after considering his words for a moment. “Aren't you?”

“What?” Eggsy sat up straighter, the smile falling from his face. “But all of this-”

“Eggsy, no, I didn't mean it like that.” He came around the table to talk to him. “I'm not regretting this, but you must understand, I haven't been in a relationship for a long time, and this is a little outside of my experience, even then. I simply don't want to disappoint you.”

Eggsy shook his head, unable to fathom a situation in which Harry could possibly disappoint him.

“If anyone's gonna be disappointin' it's me. You're-” he gestured and Harry caught his hand.

“All right, all right. Let's just say we both have reasons to be a bit insecure.”

“I want this to work, Harry,” he confessed. He'd spent the last few days floating on a cloud, happier than he had been when they'd won the lottery.

Harry looked at him for a long moment, his fingers gently squeezing Eggsy's. “As do I,” he said softly. Then he released him and went to serve the pie.

It was an excellent pie, although Eggsy felt its charms were diminished somewhat by not having been made by Harry himself, and merely by a baker. Mister Pickle had been trotting around their feet, begging for food all evening, but in the end he finally gave up and curled up in his basket when they scraped the last of the pie off their plates.

Eggsy declined another drink and they made their way to the living room to let dinner settle. They sat on the couch and Eggsy deliberately leaned against Harry, and got a smile for his trouble and an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Eggsy curled his legs up underneath himself; he hadn't bothered to put his shoes back on after he took them off to get measured, and Harry hadn't chided him for padding around in bare feet.

He played with Harry's hand, comparing the length and thickness of their fingers, remembering the day they'd gone to buy gloves, and how much he'd wanted to do this at the time. It was a warm and strong and a little battered, and if Harry's arm could bend that way he would have lifted it to his lips, wanting to press his mouth to the knuckles, the pads of his fingers. When he looked at Harry he realised he was being quietly observed, and the look in Harry's eyes was enough to make him smile and feel warm as he dropped his gaze again.

Which was something he wanted to talk about, now he considered it.

“Hey, Harry.” He was still gazing at Harry's hand, rather than his face.

“Hm?”

“You know, um, when you say things that I like, I mean, _really_ like, it's a bit weird, innit?” He tried to sound light-hearted, like he wouldn't mind if Harry agreed with him.

“Is it?” Harry asked. His arm tightened slightly around Eggsy's shoulders. “Eggsy, there's no judgement here. There are things we might like to do and things that one or other of us might decide he doesn't enjoy. That's all.”

“Yeah but.” Eggsy sighed. “I ain't never wanted this kind of thing before,” he admitted. He risked a glance at Harry. “But with you it's different somehow. I dunno, I don't think I want to do anything too odd, I guess, but I like feeling like.” He thought about it, Harry's praise, the way he looked after him. “Like I belong to you.” He was staring hard at Harry's neatly clipped fingernails, and trying very hard not to be defensive.

This was Harry. It would be okay.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, and Eggsy startled slightly when he felt fingertips on his chin. Harry had reached over with his other hand, and he gently turned Eggsy's head to face him. Eggsy didn't fight it. His mouth was dry.

“I think,” Harry said carefully, his eyes dark and intense behind his glasses. “We might find something mutually enjoyable to do with our time. Eggsy, you are not for owning, but if you'd consent to pretend for a little while...”

“Yes, Harry.” He didn't even think about it.

“Then we should go upstairs, shouldn't we?”

Eggsy practically flung off Harry's arm and scrambled to his feet with such speed Harry was left blinking in surprise.

“Um.” He felt a bit silly, standing on the rug with Harry looking up at him.

“No, don't let me stop you,” Harry said, and he smiled, fond. “Go up, I'll be with you in a moment.”

Eggsy nodded, didn't even think to get his bag as he padded upstairs. He located Harry's room by process of elimination. The door was partly open, and he could hear Harry walking around downstairs, turning off the lights.

His heart was pounding. He was tense and excited and half-hard with anticipation. What should he do, he wondered, as he stepped inside. Thankfully, there weren't any bug collections on the walls; just some more of those paintings. A neatly-made bed, stack of books on the bedside table, slippers under the bed. Eggsy hovered, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Stand here and wait? Sit on the bed? Make Harry happy.

Before he gave himself time to think about it, he pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor before unbuckling his jeans. He was in his boxers, toeing off his jeans and wondering where, if anywhere, he should put his clothes when he heard an intake of breath from the doorway.

He glanced over his shoulder, his heart leaping like he'd been caught doing something wrong. Harry was standing in the doorway, his hands at his sides, his lips a parted slightly, and he was just looking.

Eggsy wasn't oblivious. He knew he looked pretty good; both guys and girls had told him so, even before he became alluringly wealthy. Harry obviously liked him too, had presented him with sincere compliments, but always earnestly and with a kind of gentlemanly reserve. Naked want was a new look on him, and it lit an answering fire somewhere in Eggsy's stomach.

Eggsy swallowed hard around the sudden lump in his throat, as Harry raked his gaze up and down, taking him all in at leisure. Eggsy kicked his jeans aside, rolled his shoulders, and yeah, Harry was watching that, the way his muscles rolled and stretched across his back.

Shoulders back, chest out, Eggsy turned gracefully, remembering what it was to perform, even if he wasn't about to do backflips—although he might have been tempted to try if there had been room. Instead he hooked his thumbs over the edge of his boxers, waiting a heartbeat until he was sure he had Harry's attention, and pushed them down.

Harry didn't move, didn't start on his own clothes, just watched as Eggsy stepped out of them and crossed the room, his thickening cock nodding with each step.

Harry's arms clamped around his waist as Eggsy stepped up to him, like an automatic response to his proximity. Eggsy leaned into him, revelling in the feeling of fine fabric over a warm body. He was probably getting slick on Harry's trousers, given how hard he was, his cock butting against Harry's hip, but Harry didn't seem to mind. Eggsy wrapped his arms around him as Harry kicked the bedroom door closed, presumably to keep Mister Pickle out.

“Christ, Eggsy, I can't believe-” he mumbled, his hands sliding across Eggsy's skin, making their way up and down his back, cupping his arse, stroking him like a cat, and Eggsy felt like purring.

“Believe it,” he said with a grin, pressing his lips to Harry's mouth and jaw, since Harry himself almost seemed too distracted to kiss him back. He felt so nice; his hands on Eggsy's hips, his skin under Eggsy's mouth, the soft linen of his shirt against Eggsy's bare chest. He was hard too, so hard, Eggsy could feel through his clothes. Eggsy pressed himself up against the bulge and Harry actually stumbled back slightly, his back hitting the door as Eggsy angled a leg between his.

He wasn't off-balance for long though, and he hauled Eggsy in closer, his hands back on Eggsy's arse again, and Eggsy went willingly, grinding up against him as Harry finally kissed him back, hungry and toothy and sucking on his lower lip to the point of pain. Eggsy shivered, his fingers in Harry's hair, messing it up, feeling the strands, finer than his own, like silk between his fingers. His cock caught briefly on Harry's belt when he rolled his hips up, reminding Eggsy just how clothed he remained.

Which wasn't bad, really; it felt just a bit wrong, in a good way, to be the only one naked, like he was vulnerable in a way Harry wasn't. One of Harry's hands made its way up his spine to the back of Eggsy's neck and Eggsy let his head loll back, exposing his throat to Harry's clever tongue and lips.

“Eggsy,” Harry said.

“Mm.”

“My Eggsy.”

Eggsy blinked and lifted his head to look Harry in the eye. Oh. They were going to play this now? He waited, trying to look obedient, feeling as eager as a dog promised a walk. Harry cupped his cheek, and smiled at him, whatever he read off Eggsy's face pleasing him.

“Yes, Harry?” he breathed.

“If I recall, you said you'd like to get on your knees for me.”

Eggsy was doing so before he'd finished speaking, kneeling on Harry's rather worn carpet, his knees either side of Harry's shoes. He gazed up at him, and Harry looked impossibly tall from this angle, his cock pressing against the fabric in front of Eggsy's face. Eggsy waited for a moment, to see if he would get further instruction, but Harry merely watched him, his glasses slightly askew, and one hand in Eggsy's hair.

“Like Christmas, innit?” Eggsy said, rocking up and undoing Harry's belt. “Unwrapping the presents.” He was in such a hurry as he yanked the end free from the buckle it flicked back and slapped his cheek hard enough to sting a little. He recoiled in surprise and Harry looked down at him.

“Really, my dear, if you think you'd like that you need only ask.” He said it lightly, easy enough to make a joke, and Eggsy wasn't sure how he wanted to answer.

“Not in the face,” he muttered, and then, because his fingers hadn't stopped moving, he opened Harry's fly and pulled his cock out of his underwear and completely forgot what they were talking about.

It was a dick, nothing more. Handsome enough, although otherwise unremarkable, but Eggsy had been waiting so long, fantasised about this moment a thousand times, it took his breath away. Because it was Harry, finally, hard and twitching in his hand and Eggsy rocked forward at little and closed his eyes to nuzzle it, smearing his lips down the length, pressing his nose to the greying hairs at the base, the metal edge of Harry's zipper against his cheek. He breathed in. Smelled like Harry, undiluted, smelled like sex.

Harry stroked his head, and Eggsy thought that another time he might like to just sit here at Harry's feet for a while, but not today.

He sat up, licking his lips and giving Harry's cock a couple of firm strokes before he took a breath and slid it into his mouth. Harry had given him the sort of blowjob he hoped to still be fondly recalling on his deathbed, and Eggsy was going to do his best to return the favour. So he bobbed his head eagerly, three fingers of one hand wrapped around the base as he sucked and swallowed around it.

“That's it,” Harry said, and Eggsy was gratified to note he sounded a bit out of breath. “Very nice.”

Eggsy pulled away long enough to answer him. “If you can still talk I need to work a bit harder.” He winked and set about doing so before Harry could reply.

His legs were spread fairly wide, and he jumped slightly when he felt something nudge his balls, and he tilted his head and opened his eyes to see Harry had braced himself on the door so he could lift one polished oxford and molest him with the toe of the shoe. Eggsy gasped a little around Harry's cock when he worked his foot behind Eggsy's balls and pressed up a bit harder.

All Eggsy'd had was thin air and the cool trickle of precome down his own dick, and the offer of any sort of sensation, pressure if not friction had him spreading his legs wider, pushing himself down against Harry's shoe.

He wondered if Harry would make him clean it later and he slid Harry's cock another half inch or so further down his throat at the thought, his hips rocking slightly. Harry took pity on him and bent his knee so Eggsy could frot himself against the front of his shoe. The laces weren't very comfortable, so he didn't rub, but he did press himself against it. His stomach lurched as he realised the position he was in.

This really had turned into one of those porn videos, he thought, picturing himself from some third perspective, cock halfway down his neck and fucking himself on a shoe. For a few moments it was wonderful, filthy and fun in the best way and then it all seemed a bit much, not really _him—_ how had he managed to get himself into this situation? He coughed, suddenly trying not to gag, the dick in his mouth too wide, too far back and Harry gently pushed him away as Eggsy fought to get control of himself.

“Sorry,” Eggsy said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes stinging.

“I think that's enough for now,” Harry said, and his hands were under Eggsy's arms, pulling him to his feet. Eggsy went, unbending his knees, which had red mottled patches on them. Harry gathered him up into his arms and hugged him, and Eggsy hugged him back, happy to accept the reassurance even though he wasn't sure why he needed it all of a sudden.

Harry pressed gentle kisses to his face until Eggsy smiled and kissed him back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, looking him in the eye.

Eggsy nodded. He was, now.

“Shall we go to bed?”

“Yes, Harry.”

Harry followed him across the room, his trousers falling off his hips and his cock still jutting, wet and shiny, from his fly. He sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes while Eggsy sprawled on it, watching him get undressed.

Harry wasn't as neat as he expected, tossing his shirt aside and leaving his trousers and pants in a pile on the floor next to the bed. The only thing he did carefully was set his glasses on the bedside table. Eggsy didn't care, drinking in the sight of him, soft in the middle maybe but otherwise lean and wiry, and when he crawled over him, Eggsy welcomed him with open arms, open mouth, open legs. He wanted to devour him, touch every inch of his skin.

Harry was just as enthusiastic, and they rolled from one side of his bed to the other, rucking up the neatly folded quilt as they petted and played, and Eggsy didn't feel owned, he felt loved. Harry was all limbs sometimes it seemed, his bony legs tangling with Eggsy's and his reach unfairly long, as he could apparently manage to get his hands on Eggsy's arse from almost any position no matter how much he wiggled and squirmed.

And Harry did make him squirm. He'd apparently set his heart on finding every sensitive and ticklish spot on Eggsy's body, and if he couldn't reach he'd look into Eggsy's eyes, his own soft and dark, his hair falling over his forehead, and ask softly, “May I?” and Eggsy would roll over or shift his arm because he thought he'd do anything Harry asked.

“You're spoiling me,” Eggsy mumbled, resting his forearm across his face as Harry nuzzled his stomach, mouthing at the line of hair below his navel.

“Good,” Harry said. “That's what I intend.”

“Yeah well, that's not fair, is it?” he said. He felt Harry raise his head then and Eggsy moved his arm so he could see.

“What do you suggest?” Harry asked, mischief in his eyes.

“I don't know,” Eggsy said wiggling out from under Harry. As delightful as this was, he was looking forward to moving onto something more. Harry sat up politely, giving Eggsy space to move, kneeling on the bed, attentive, still aroused although not as urgently as he had been. Eggsy eyed him off, his lower lip between his teeth as he thought.

He grinned and, bracing himself against the mattress, lifted his hips and wrapped his legs around Harry's neck. He knew how to make it look easy, and gratifyingly, Harry looked quite startled. He turned his head to kiss the inside of Eggsy's thigh, his fingers digging into the meat of it.

“How remarkable,” he said.

“I told you I did gymnastics,” Eggsy said. “I was pretty fucking good, too.”

“I'm sure you were,” Harry said, and then he started bending forward, forcing Eggsy to either release him or curl up. Eggsy did the latter, his cock jabbing against his own stomach, his knees up around his ears by the time Harry was hovering over him, the look on his face making the discomfort all worthwhile. “You really are something.”

Eggsy couldn't help a yelp as he felt Harry's fingers dip between his buttocks.

“No?” Harry asked, not judging, curious.

Eggsy shook his head. “No, I mean, yes. No, don't stop.” He lifted his hips a bit higher, and Harry smirked at him before bending his head to lick the end of his cock.

“Just hold on,” Harry said, and Eggsy did, his ankles crossed somewhere over Harry's shoulder blades, his thighs tensed around Harry's ears as he leaned over to collect objects Eggsy couldn't quite see as his view was obscured by his own torso but could guess the nature of.

Harry sat back on his heels, stroking his hands down Eggsy's sides, making him shiver.

“Are you all right?”

“Me? Yeah, can keep this up all night,” Eggsy said, even though his legs were already starting to ache slightly.

“Yes darling, but I don't think you'll be able to relax like that.”

Which was a good point really and with some relief Eggsy unwound his legs and let Harry lower him back onto the bed. No sooner had he got settled than Harry said, “Let's compromise,” and lifted one of Eggsy's legs over his shoulder. It gave him access to all sorts of places and after kissing up the inside of his thigh, almost hard enough to bruise, Harry set about exploring them, keeping his hands away from Eggsy's cock but otherwise he wasn't shy.

Harry wore the most adorable expression, Eggsy decided. He'd rolled over onto his side and curled down a bit so he could watch Harry frown slightly in concentration, his breathing hot and shallow. Harry was gentle, and Eggsy was glad of it; his fingers were much larger than Eggsy's own, and yeah, Eggsy might have been practising a bit, just for this occasion, but he appreciated the time and lube even as part of him wanted it all to go faster, his fingers itching to touch his own cock as Harry opened him up.

But Harry wasn't. He was on his elbows and knees, Eggsy could see his cock flushed and erect and ignored, and Eggsy's hips stuttered in anticipation. Harry smiled, a little victorious. Smug, even. Eggsy didn't begrudge him.

“Alright?”

“Yeah.”

Eggsy hadn't been fucked in a long time, not since before they'd won the lottery, but Harry had implied a dry spell a whole lot longer, and Eggsy just dug his fingers into the bedclothes and hung on as Harry pushed himself in, slowly, but Eggsy didn't want to ask him to stop. He'd kept Eggsy's leg over his shoulder, the calf now resting against his neck. Eggsy was proud he could spread himself to effortlessly and Harry seemed to like it too. He'd have to think up more acrobatic things to impress him with.

Later.

Once his brain had restarted, because Harry had seated himself with a grunt and was kissing Eggsy's ankle and it kind of tickled but mostly, oh, mostly he was fucked.

“Eggsy?”

“Mhmh.” Did he really expect him to talk? Surely it was enough to keep breathing. He bent his leg up as Harry lent forward to ruffle his hair.

“I want to take care of you, Eggsy,” Harry said. His voice was low and with an uncharacteristic growl to it.

“Then fucking,” Eggsy panted, because Harry was moving, just a bit and it was incredibly distracting. “Get on with it!”

He almost regretted it when Harry rolled his hips back, and snapped them forward, hard enough to wring a yelp out of Eggsy's throat. Mean, he tried to think, but Harry was doing it again, slightly differently this time, and again and then Eggsy was reduced to a kind of whining moan as all the air left his lungs. He tried to find purchase and he felt Harry's fingers grip his ankle quite hard to hold his leg in place.

Fair enough; he didn't actually want to kick him in the face, but every time Harry fucked forward he was just on the edge of getting it perfect--

And then he was, grinding his cock against Eggsy's prostate and Eggsy was vaguely aware he was babbling, probably terribly embarassing things he'd never admit to saying later, as he tried to rock his hips back on Harry's cock, unable to find much leverage.

“Not fair,” he panted, collecting his scattered wits for a moment.

“Nothing but the best for you, my dear,” Harry said, gritted out through his teeth. His jaw was clenched and his brow furrowed. He sounded pretty wrecked himself. Eggsy felt him wrap his free hand around his cock, and he was lost. He didn't have to be careful here, keep the noise down, keep one eye open, and he didn't have to wonder what would come after, if he'd be invited to stay.

He was taken care of, as promised.

He came practically weeping Harry's name, his throat and mouth dry, the rest of him damp with sweat, and Harry came groaning, his hand full of Eggsy's come, his teeth against Eggsy's leg.

There were messes to clean up, but Harry seemed in no hurry, other than to get rid of the condom after he gently lowered Eggsy's leg. Eggsy whimpered into the pillow; he was going to be feeling a lot tomorrow, he guessed. Harry crawled over him, pulling him away from the damp patch, and Eggsy curled up against him.

“Was it?” he asked.

Eggsy lifted his head. Harry looked mildly concerned, of all things.

“Wonderful,” Eggsy yawned. “I dunno why you gotta even ask.”

“A gentleman always asks.”

“A gentleman doesn't fish for compliments,” Eggsy grumbled, and of all things he felt Harry laugh, even though he was still catching his breath and the arms around him tightened.

“Touché,” he said, kissing Eggsy's forehead, and Eggsy could feel his smile.

 

~~

Harry knew it wasn't a dream, even before he was awake. Even though he was alone in his bed, the atmosphere of his bedroom was different; the feel of it warmer, the smell of sex on his sheets nostalgic rather than familiar.

Why was he alone?

He blinked himself awake, wondering if Eggsy had woken up and had second thoughts about the whole thing. If he was going to, now would be the time, he supposed. In the mornings he felt his age, old and worn, especially at the joints. His hips ached slightly; he wasn't used to that particular kind of exercise.

He fumbled for his glasses and then for his phone. Eggsy had left him a text.

_I took ur keys gone 4 a run u looked so peaceful so I didn't wake u <3_

A run? Harry was typing before he'd even thought about it.

_If you can still run after last night I need to work on my technique._

He sent it and a moment later Eggsy's phone buzzed from the bedclothes on the other side of the bed.

Right.

It was a bit earlier than Harry usually got up but he wasn't about to go back to sleep. Instead he rolled himself out of bed and put on his dressing gown. He noticed Eggsy had collected his clothes from the floor, and there was an unfamiliar toothbrush in the bathroom.

Harry looked at it while he pissed, wondering if it would stay, how long this whole thing was going to last.

He washed his hands and then bent over the sink to wash his face. When he did that he could feel how much he sagged, the bristles on his chin more silver than brown, his eyes gritty. Even the grey in his hair seemed more prominent in the morning, and last night's activities had made more of a mess of it than usual.

He was still staring at his reflection, water dripping off his chin when he heard the click of the front door and Eggsy shushing Mister Pickle, who'd trotted out to meet him. Next, careful footsteps on the stairs, that grew less careful when Eggsy spotted him.

“You're awake! Good morning, Harry.”

Eggsy was practically glowing. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of running shorts that Harry realised would probably ensure his neighbours would never look him in the eye again. He was slightly sweaty, his eyes bright and beautiful. He was beaming, but the smile started to slip when he looked at Harry's face.

“Um, are you all right, Harry?”

“God, you're beautiful.” The smile started to come back; he really did love being complimented, but that wasn't what Harry was getting at. “I really don't know what you're doing with me.”

Eggsy frowned, his expression dangerously close to a pout. “Harry, are you thinking silly things?” He drifted forward, his hands resting on Harry's chest.

“It's not silly it's just.” He caught a glimpse of them in the mirror above the sink.

“You know why I went for a run, even though my legs are aching and my arse is sore?” Eggsy asked. “Cause I had to do something. I saw you sleeping and I couldn't sit still. I wanted to touch you, I wanted to wake you up and kiss you and if you wanted to fuck me again I don't think I'd say no, Harry. I know you like lying in, so I didn't wake you. I want to do this right.” He was clutching at the dressing gown. “It's not about the suits, Harry, or about the, you know, kinky stuff. I like you. I like you.”

“Eggsy.”

“Believe me?”

Harry kissed him. He couldn't believe him entirely, not yet, but every morning Eggsy saw him at his worst and still smiled at him, still kissed him back like it was the most important thing in the world, he might believe it a bit more.

Eggsy plastered himself against Harry's front, and Harry felt the tie on his dressing gown working loose as Eggsy arched against him as the kiss became less intense, sloppier. Eggsy slipped his hand in to touch Harry's chest.

Eggsy tried to push him against a wall, and Harry resisted, breaking the kiss.

“Eggsy, you'll knock the shadowboxes down.”

“You and your insects,” Eggsy said, smiling. Then he kicked the bathroom door shut and tried to manoeuvre Harry against it.

This time he went, how could he not, with the incubus of his dreams already hard in those silly little running shorts, his eyes alight with joy and lust and Harry kissed him again, hard, nipping at his lip.

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy sighed, tugging the tie on the dressing gown loose, his hands on Harry's bare hips.

Harry didn't recall asking a question.

He tugged the top off Eggsy's shoulders and Eggsy freed his cock from his shorts, pushing them halfway down his thighs.

“Come here,” Harry said, pulling Eggsy against him, and reaching down to nudge Eggsy's cock between his legs.

“Yeah,” Eggsy panted. The height difference was perfect, even if the lack of lube wasn't ideal. Eggsy rocked his hips forward, the end of his cock curving up against Harry's balls. Harry tensed his legs. He'd done quite a bit of this sort of thing when he'd been a teenager, and Eggsy didn't seem disappointed. He grinned instead, wrapping one arm around Harry's neck and reaching down between them with the other to stroke Harry's cock.

It was ridiculous. The door didn't quite fit on the frame (it swelled up and jammed slightly sometimes), and Harry was still wearing his dressing gown and he realised he was smiling, smiling against Eggsy's smiling mouth.

It wasn't intense this morning, not like it had been the night before. Eggsy's cock kept slipping and he'd stop stroking Harry to readjust it, and Harry tried to distract him by squeezing his arse and honestly if he didn't end up coming it wouldn't have bothered him too much.

But he did. Eggsy found a position he liked, practically up on his toes, his hips digging into Harry's legs with every thrust, and Eggsy stopped kissing him and just hung on, his mouth open, his eyes on Harry's face until he had to close them. He came gasping, his come hot on Harry's legs and arse and Harry kissed him through it, putting his hand over Eggsy's to help bring himself off as well.

They slumped against the door. Harry's heart was hammering and he felt, fuck, almost young again, dizzy with hormones and blinding affection for the man in his arms.

“So you like the shorts?” Eggsy asked innocently.

“You planned this?” Harry asked.

“Not exactly, I mean.” He lifted his head and grinned. “I was hoping.”

“You're insatiable.”

“You rose to the occasion.” Eggsy winked.

“Just for that, I'm having the first shower.”

They were running late for the day, even by Harry's standards. He didn't have any appointments, but they were supposed to be looking at cloth for Eggsy's suit, and Harry was scowling, trying to sort out the mess in the kitchen from last night's dinner when Eggsy bounced downstairs, dressed rather less distractingly, and his hair sticking up, still damp.

“Maybe just eggs,” Harry muttered, looking at the frying pan.

“Aw, forget it, Harry.” Eggsy started opening cupboard. “We're in a hurry, muesli will do.”

“Will it?”

Eggsy paused, a bowl in each hand, and then walked over to press a kiss to Harry's lips. “Yeah, it doesn't matter what we have, does it? It's the company that matters.”

“Truer words were never spoken. Cereal's in the top left,” Harry said, kissing him back before going to get the milk.

It was, perhaps, the best muesli he'd ever eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and big thanks to Mizo for illustrating. I apologise for turning what I'd hoped to be a 'long one-shot' into this monstrosity and obliging so much extra art (which is on the way.) I have a vague idea for a sequel for this story, but no promises.


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